Sacrifice
by MadroxMR
Summary: Lion-o has always felt inferior to his skillful and proud older brother.  Little does he know that beneath Tygra's confident exterior lies a terrible secret that may shatter him for good. 2011-verse.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: **Beware: High doses of drama, melodrama, flashbacks and angst ahead. As I've made up copious amounts of backstory, let's just call this A.U. Based loosely on the first four episodes or so, before they found the Book of Omens and significantly before Tygra resumed using his whip. For the purpose of this story, Lion-o and Tygra are about four years apart in age.

**Rated: 'T' **for violence and language

**Disclaimer: **Thundercats, its characters and properties, belong to Warner Bros and to people I would list if Cartoon Network would ever play the credits large enough to see. Anyways, not mine.

**Chapter One:**

_Thirteen years ago…_

It started as it always did: with a sensation of wetness on his paws. He knew what it was; his stomach clenched and sank as he fought the urge to look. He didn't want to look! But then the scent hit his nose: strong, tangy and unmistakable. Breathing through his mouth was a mistake. As a cat, he could _taste_ it in the air.

The dampness spread. He could feel it creeping up his arms, could sense it spattered across his face. The sharp metallic scent clawed at his nasal passages. With a rapidly rising pulse, Tygra opened his eyes.

Blood.

It was everywhere. It ran in rivulets down the walls, pooled on the floor and flowed towards him. It covered his paws; his forearms up to his elbows bore sleeves of dripping red liquid. He could feel it on his face…

"…!" The young cub jerked awake, sitting straight up in bed. Heart pounding in his throat, he sat in his dark bedroom, wide-eyed and sickened. Eventually his breathing slowed down, his pulse gradually following pace.

"Night terrors", that's what Jaga called it. He would outgrow it eventually, according to the old wizard. In the meantime, Tygra had learned not to scream when it happened, not to rouse the castle with his whimpers and mews. Especially since his little brother's room was now next door. He didn't want Lion-o to know about it. It shamed him to not be able to control his nightmare, shamed him to have to change his sweat-damp sheets and pajamas in the middle of the night. What would he do if his little brother found out how pathetic he was?

But besides that, he _had_ to remain silent about it; the servants would talk if they found out and their waggling tongues would attract unwanted attention. Tygra didn't want his father to know it was still going on, didn't want to sit on the uncomfortable stool in Jaga's cold quarters, while the old cleric peered at him as if he could see inside of Tygra's head. The cub shuddered at the thought.

As he roused himself to start changing his bed, he heard a soft noise. Cocking his head to one side, he listened hard. Ah, Tygra knew that sound. Silently, he slipped into a new pair of pajamas and hoped that the scent of fear didn't cling to him. It seemed he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep tonight.

He attempted to muffle the soft, shameful sounds by burrowing under his covers; curling into a tight ball while soaking his pillow with unstoppable tears. The occasional ragged, gasping intakes of breath that broke the rhythmic sobs seemed unbearably loud to his sensitive ears, despite his best efforts to stifle them. His failure to accomplish even that simple task added to his misery. He _had_ to stop crying. If he didn't, sooner or later someone would…

A sliver of bright light pierced the darkness, visible even through his cocoon of covers. A slim shadowy figure slipped inside his bedroom and with a soft click the heavy wooden door once again sealed the chamber. The young cub closed his eyes, attempting to feign sleep, but his hiccupping breath betrayed him.

"Lion-o?"

The soft voice was both familiar and unwelcome, filling the prince with a sense of dread. Of all the cats, of course it had to be _him._

"Lion-o? Are you crying? Did you have a scary dream or is it…?" Tygra's voice trailed off.

Lion-o's shame at being caught fueled a temporary anger. He scrubbed his face free of tears with one fierce paw before throwing back his sheets and leveling a glare at his unwanted bedroom intruder. "No!" he whispered vehemently. "Go _away_, Tygra. I'm fine!" And with that he rolled over to face the wall, pulling his covers and sheets back around him. He listened to the stillness, hoping against hope that his older brother would take him at his word and obey. He should have known better.

Faint approaching footsteps shattered any notion of his ruse working. He could picture his brother standing there, with his arms crossed in front of him, maybe smirking a little bit, maybe frowning in disapproval. Regardless of his need to prove himself strong, more tears leaked from his eyes.

A sigh, then Lion-o's mattress shifted as Tygra made himself at home on the other side. "Honestly, you're such a _kitten _sometimes. I miss her too, you know."

Still nursing his injured pride at being found out, the young heir whirled around to snarl, "I'm not a _kitten_; I'm a _cub_. And you're a _liar_! You don't even cry. Not even at her funeral! You and Father both."

The look his brother gave him temporarily silenced the younger prince's outburst. Tygra appeared to be at ease; legs stretched out before him as his upper body rested against the headboard, hands clasped behind his head. But there was a new tension in the lithe form, an injured expression on his face and a pain in his eyes that even the five year old cub couldn't miss.

Slowly, Lion-o's anger dissolved. "You…you won't make fun? You won't tell? Not Father or Jaga or the generals?"

Tygra laid his right paw over the Thundercat's emblem embroidered on his silk pajamas. "Promise." And then he gave Lion-o a small smile and ruffled his already unruly red mane until it stood up in an even greater number of tufts. Lion-o allowed it for a minute before swatting the offending paw away with insincere protests and grumbles.

The tiger cub briefly grinned as his hands resumed their role as his pillow. Then his face lost all hints of humor as he stared across the darkened bedroom. "She was my mom too. I cry. I just hide it better than you do. What Father said at her funeral, that we should remember and celebrate her life instead of mourning her death… I guess I've just been trying not to let him down. I'm sorry if you felt alone."

Lion-o stared at the shadowy form of his big brother. Tygra didn't usually talk to him, not like this. Unable to help himself, the young prince snuggled a bit closer to the older boy. Tygra's left hand found its way back on top of Lion-o's head. This time, however, he just gently stroked the red hair, a soothing, repetitive motion.

The room fell into a comfortable hush, both brothers lost in thought. Then Lion-o stirred. "Tygra… what was… what was _your _mom like?"

The hand on his head froze. The silence stretched past the point of politeness, growing tangibly oppressive as it dragged on, causing the younger cub to stiffen in response. He grimaced, ready to apologize for whatever _faux pas_ he had just committed, when his brother finally let out a heavy sigh. Frustration colored his every word.

"I… I don't really remember her. Whenever I think of 'Mom', I think of _our_ mom, Queen Irene. I've tried, but I just don't…" His gaze shifted down to where Lion-o was staring up at him with a mixture of shock and horror. Tygra quickly found other places for his eyes to rest. He could guess what was coming next. His little brother did not disappoint.

"But you were only a year younger than me when she died, right?"

Silence. Tygra continued to stare at the far wall; the brisk rise and fall of his chest and slight tremble of his hand on top of Lion-o's head the only response to the younger boy's query.

The cub's next question emerged in a tiny whisper. "When I'm your age… do you think I'll forget my mom too?"

A sharp intake of breath and Tygra whirled on him so fast that Lion-o flinched and shrunk away. "Of course not! Don't even think about it!" A clenched fist shook just under Lion-o's nose. "If you forget her, even a little, I'll kick your tail all over Thundera."

A small knock at the door froze both brothers. "Are you all right, Prince Lion-o?" a muffled voice called from outside.

Blue eyes met brown in the dark. "Answer him," mouthed the elder silently.

"Um, fine thanks. Goodnight," the cub managed to squeak out.

"Good night, Prince Lion-o."

The guard's foot falls moved beyond the door. Both boys held their breaths and strained their ears, remaining still until the treads could no longer be heard. Twin sighs of relief echoed off the walls, then Lion-o offer up a timid "Sorry".

Tygra frowned and shook his head. "No… I'm sorry. Guess I got too loud."

The little lion cub relaxed. He offered up an impish grin. "So if _you_ forget… do I get to kick _your_ tail?"

Even in the darkness he could see Tygra's responding smirk. Familiar sarcasm colored his words. "_Sure_, little brother. Maybe I'll even bend down and hold still for you too." Then he slumped back against the headboard. "'Course if I do forget, I'll _deserve_ a good tail kicking," he muttered darkly.

The bed shifted and a warmth pressed against his side. A small hand clutched his and squeezed. Touched at his brother's attempt to be comforting, Tygra smiled down at him. "How about, I won't let you forget and you won't let me forget. Deal?"

"Deal." The younger boy sounded satisfied, but he didn't release Tygra's hand.

"Don't worry, squirt. I'll stay here until you go back to sleep."

"Promise?"

"Promise." Tygra slid downwards until he was lying flat on the bed. There was a brief scuffle over the covers, and then both boys settled back down. Eyes burning from his previous crying bout as well as from the late hour, Lion-o was glad to allow them to close.

"She had blue eyes, I think, kind of like yours."

"Your mom?"

"Uh-huh. Blue eyes and… white fur?"

"I bet she was pretty and nice."

Lion-o smiled at the thought. It comforted him to know that Tygra hadn't completely forgotten. As sleepy as he was, he missed the hesitance in his brother's voice as he muttered, "Yeah… pretty… and nice…?"

Lion-o drifted off, leaving one wide awake tiger cub to ponder what kind of son he was to forget his own mother so completely.

_Present day…_

The campfire reflected red and orange off the metallic side of the Thunder Tank. From inside the vehicle came a loud bang and a muffled curse. Squatting near an access hatch, Lion-o called down for what felt like the umpteenth time, "Um… sure you couldn't use some help, Panthro?"

Unexpectedly, the large general's head popped out of the hole, startling the hovering king enough so that Lion-o ended up losing his balance and landing on his tailbone. "What I could use is my connoiter-wrench." Panthro's dark eyes narrowed. "Have you _moved_ my connoiter-wrench?"

The red-head held up both paws in a placating gesture. "No, no, I haven't moved anything."

"Hm. Look, Y_our Majesty_… maybe you could help someone else. _Elsewhere._ I've got the Thunder Tank handled." And with that, the bald-headed cat ducked back within the confines of his beloved machine.

"Yeah, sure…" With a sigh, Lion-o slipped off the side of the Thunder Tank, landing light-footedly on the ground. He strode to the nearby campfire where Cheetara was roasting fish on freshly cut boughs and Snarf was taking a cat-nap. The cleric greeted him with a welcoming but knowing smile as he collapsed on his bottom next to the fire.

"I don't suppose _you_ need any help?" he asked, the inflection of his voice indicating that he already knew the answer.

"No," she responded gently, "but maybe you could rescue Tygra. He seems to have his hands full."

Lion-o shifted his gaze to the edge of the clearing, where his brother, arms loaded with firewood, was fending off an 'ambush' by the kittens. "No…" Lion-o's voice sounded dull to his own ears, "He's fine."

And it was true. Even whilst juggling his burden of wood, Tygra easily evaded WilyKat and WilyKit's wild swings with wooden knives. The two littermates calmed down enough to circle their 'prey', while Tygra placed his load down. WilyKat took the opportunity to launch a flying kick towards the adult's head, a move Tygra easily dodged.

WilyKit wisely hung back as her brother bounced around, showing more energy than skill as he tried to find an opening in Tygra's defenses.

Lion-o frowned. He remembered attempting that same kick long ago. His brother's paw had snagged his ankle as he had passed and he had ended up face down in the dirt for his efforts. Right in front of his father and the generals, of course. Azure eyes narrowed as he continued to watch the mock combat.

Cheetara followed his gaze, a small smile on her face. "They look like they're having fun."

"He's just _playing_ with them." The tiniest touch of a growl tainted his words, causing the cleric to give him a look.

"They _are_ just kids, Lion-o."

"Yeah, well that won't buy them any mercy from the lizards," came the muttered response. As if he could hear his brother's words, Tygra play-acted drawing his pistol, pointing his index finger at the bounding 'Kat and cocking his thumb. The observing king felt an irrational flash of anger; his blue eyes narrowed into slits.

"Lion-o," Cheetara's calm voice queried, "is something the matter?"

Across the clearing WilyKat miraculously dodged two of Tygra's 'shots', then succumbed to the third. He staggered around dramatically, hands clutched to his chest, groaning and carrying on as his sister took the opportunity to sneak up behind Tygra, crouching in a tight ball directly behind his legs. WilyKat made a sudden recovery, ceasing his death scene long enough to spring at Tygra's head. Attempting to take a step back caused the prince to trip over the carefully positioned 'Kit, and down he went, both kittens instantly pouncing on his prone form. The warm rumble of his laughter, highlighted by the kittens' higher pitched tones, rang across the campsite.

Lion-o's mood inexplicably darkened. He knew his brother's skills well enough to know that Tygra had just thrown the fight, a courtesy he had never shown the Thunderian heir.

"Lion-o?" Cheetara prompted.

"No, nothing is wrong."

He was lying, of course. Thundera destroyed, his father dead, Jaga gone, Mumm-ra revived and they were no closer to finding the Book of Omens… there wasn't much in Lion-o life that _was _okay. And then there was Tygra. Lion-o often found himself angry at his brother for reasons he could not quite put his claws on. The irrational anger annoyed him, being annoyed fed his anger and the cycle continued into a downward spiral.

He took a breath and let it out as the elder cat and the kittens approached the campfire, the firewood now divided between them. The young siblings dropped their burden with a loud clatter, startling the poor, snoozing Snarf straight into the air. "Oops, sorry," Kit proclaimed as Tygra put his load down more gently. WilyKat and WilyKit stacked the wood as Tygra brushed the dirt off his clothes, a self-satisfied smirk on his face.

Lion-o frowned up at his brother. Even recognizing that he had no good reason to be irritated, he couldn't rid himself of the emotion. He gestured abruptly at his brother's waist. "Don't you think you're relying on that thing too much?"

Tygra paused in his motions to give Lion-o a puzzled look. "What?"

The younger cat made a fake gun of his own with his hand in response.

Tygra's smirk slowly returned. "Relying too much on one's hand sounds like a problem of _yours_, little brother, not mine."

The two youngest cats continued stacking the wood, but they exchanged glances and smiles. They were used to the squabbling between the older pair of siblings by now. The innuendo had thankfully seemed to have went flying over their heads. Cheetara, however, made a noise that sounded like a cross between a laugh and a cough, and Lion-o found his cheeks warming. He rose to his feet as Tygra confidently crossed his arms in front of his broad chest.

"I'm being serious."

"You're being a serious ass," came the dry retort.

The cleric tisked and rose. Her bo-staff sprang to length, jutting out over the fire and between the two brothers. Without bothering to give either a look, she swung the weapon backwards into the Thunder Tank, the loud ringing noise reverberating out from her strike. Panthro's head, one hand clamped against his bald pate, instantly popped out of the access hatch.

"Damn it girl! I've _told _you not to _do_ that!"

"Dinner is ready," she replied sweetly, retracting her staff.

Growling a stream of just barely under his breath profanities, the large panther climbed out of the tank. It was then that Cheetara gave both sons of Claudus a stern look, as if daring them to further provoke the steamed general with their childish bickering. Tygra gave a shrug and sat down. He hadn't been too invested in the argument to begin with and in truth didn't really understand what it was about.

Lion-o was slower to comply with the cleric's unspoken wishes. His irrational anger at Tygra hadn't subsided. He too was unsure what the argument had been about, but that didn't matter. The only thing that was certain was that he had unquestionably lost. Again.

**A/N:** Well it's been a while since I've written a story so feel free to tell me what you think. I'll try to update once a week, but no promises...


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

"Lovely day for a walk," Tygra commented dryly.

"Just keep moving," Lion-o tersely ordered as he slogged towards his older brother. He could see the exchange of glances in front him. Really, if he had a Thunderian silver for every time Cheetara and Tygra exchanged glances before obeying his orders, Lion-o probably could have funded a mercenary army by now.

His hands clenched into fists, sharp claws digging painfully into his own palms. His father had never had this much doubt cast upon him, he was sure. Then again, his father probably had never marched his subjects through a swamp, either.

The sky remained a stubborn shade of slate grey even as the day wore on. An omnipresent mist hung in the air, occasionally turning into a light drizzle before fading back; the constant moisture stuck fur to flesh and clothes to fur.

As annoying as that was to the cats, nothing really compared to the twelve inches of water and muck they were trudging through; the sticky substance clinging greedily to their feet as they tried to find a more solid path through the swamp for the Thunder Tank to drive on. The mud made every move more difficult. Even Cheetara, who could normally scout an area in nothing flat, was forced to carefully pick her path. The cleric's feet were at least free of filth as she leapt from hillock to hillock in the point position; Lion-o and Tygra couldn't say the same.

The older cat pulled one foot free and shook it, bits of foul scented sludge flying off his toes and out of his sandals. The open-toed design of the cats' shoes that enabled their claws to be used for traction when necessary was a definite disadvantage in this terrain. The tiger frowned a little as he slapped away a swarm of mosquitos, but said nothing.

He didn't have to; Lion-o could almost _feel_ the judgmental thoughts flying in his direction: how he had once again led them wrong; how he compared so poorly to Claudus… or even to Tygra. The anger that lurked in his heart flared under the presumed condemnation. _Go on, say it, _he silently urged his brother. _Tell me I'm doing it all wrong._

But Tygra said nothing. His alert mahogany eyes scanned the swamp as he moved forward, ducking around a partially fallen tree, his attention apparently everywhere _but_ on his trailing little brother.

Lion-o blew his frustration out in one sharp exhale. Was he imagining it then? After all, his brother was one to speak his mind. Was Lion-o just projecting his own doubts and insecurities onto his brother?

Before he could ponder it further, he almost ran into Tygra's back as the tiger stood motionless. "Hey," he sputtered, attention brought back to reality, "Why'd you stop?"

"Shush." Tygra's eyes were focused on Cheetara, who stood stock-still on a muskrat mound. Lion-o was about to retort that a proper subject did not 'shush' his king, but thought better of it when he saw his brother tasting the air. In this foul environment, it had to be serious to force Tygra to chuff. His hand rose to hover near the hilt of his sword even as his brother's rested on the butt of his gun. Cheetara stood tall and alert out in front, her golden form standing out in the mist shrouded swamp like a beam of sunlight breaking through the clouds.

An obvious target provoked an obvious response. Lizards suddenly emerged from an overgrown reedy area before them, walking through the water as if it were land. Energy weapons hummed in the still air as the leader stepped forward. "Surrender, Cats," he sneered.

"Whiskers," Lion-o muttered. In her current position, Cheetara was extremely vulnerable and most of the weapons were focused on her. Lion-o felt a sudden flash of disappointment in himself. As King, _he _should have taken point, the most dangerous position.

"She'll be fine," Tygra breathed out, his voice barely audible even to Lion-o's sensitive ears. "Concentrate on the ones behind us."

The young king stiffened, tuning his senses to the area behind them. Sure enough, his ears could pick up faint rhythmic sounds of disturbed water and reeds. He drew the Sword of Omens. Just then a large paw planted itself in Lion-o's chest, pushing him backwards. His feet stuck firmly in place, he fell, back striking the stagnant water just as laser blasts shot over his head.

His brother sprang forward, twisting as he fired his own weapon at the lizards flanking their position. But even Tygra's more muscular body had difficulty negating the effects of the muddy swamp bottom. The smell of burning fur filled the air as a shot grazed his upper arm. Teeth bared in a defiant snarl, the tiger whirled, gun blazing.

Lion-o felt a growl build deep within his chest. The sword answered his call, energy flaring up the blade, extending its length. As he clambered back to his feet, the lizards were foolish enough to close ranks.

"The Stone," one hissed. "Seize the Stone!"

Lion-o deflected two blasts, then surged forward to chop their rifles in half. Another swing and the legendary sword blew his enemies off their feet and backwards.

A soft splash to his left was all the warning he got. Whirling, he found a lizard charging right at him, feet barely creating a ripple as it ran across the water. As Lion-o raised his sword into a guard position, out of nowhere another lizard's body flew in from the side, colliding with its ally and changing the confident run into a flailing assortment of arms, legs and tails. Tygra gave him a grin and a half wave, before turning and pistol-whipping another lizard who had been foolish enough to get within his arm's reach.

As his foe fell unconscious, the tiger dropped to one knee, taking aim at two lizards who had hung back from the melee. Lion-o surged ahead towards Cheetara's position, paying just enough attention to note that each shot Tygra made hit its target. Still, he felt the unwelcome prickles of anger as his brother wielded his gun.

Cheetara, as it turned out, needed no help. Using a combination of her cleric's speed and her staff, she vaulted from enemy to enemy, knocking lizards hither and yon in a whirlwind of golden activity. The leader, seeing most of his forces fall, coupled with Lion-o's charge across the swamp with the glowing Sword of Omens held high, swiftly called for a retreat. Pursuit was pointless. The lizards were just more maneuverable than the cats in this terrain.

Cheetara's skillful display of agility ended with her landing back on the muskrat mound, only a few extra spots on her fur showing that she had been in combat at all. Lion-o, in contrast, was filthy, courtesy of Tygra pushing him backwards into the swamp and his useless charge towards the cleric. Attempts to brush off the mud only succeeded in smearing it deeper into his fur. He gave up with a shrug and a sheepish smile. Cheetara returned it and that was enough to warm his heart briefly. Then he turned back towards his brother and his smile died. Tygra had somehow commandeered one of the lizard's weapons. He was turning it back and forth in his hands, a small frown furrowing his brow.

"Hey, Tygra; leave that," Lion-o ordered just as his brother found the switch he wanted.

The rifle's energy pack disengaged, popping out into the tiger's hand. With a satisfied grin, he carelessly tossed the gun into the swamp, pocketing the energy pack. "What?" he asked in response to Lion-o's frown as he made his way towards them. "I don't want this to run out of power." Tygra patted his now holstered weapon, the gun he had taken back in Thundera.

Blue eyes followed the movement. The gun again. For one who had so often scoffed at the existence of technology, Tygra had adapted to the gun as skillfully as he did to every weapon he laid his paws on. Lion-o couldn't fault his brother for using it, nor truthfully criticize his ability to wield it effectively. And yet… And yet he found himself annoyed every time Tygra did so.

"Lion-o," Cheetara's voice broke him from his reflection. "I know Jaga's hints suggested we go in this direction. But now that the lizards have spotted us, perhaps we should consider a different course."

"Does that mean we can get out of this blasted swamp?" Tygra asked. He was as filthy as Lion-o, with dark muck coating his clothes and spattered into his hair.

"Yeah, sure," Lion-o answered distractedly. He forced himself away from his near epiphany and back to the present. "Let's head back to the Thunder Tank. Maybe Panthro will know a different route we can take."

"We could have asked him that in the beginning and saved ourselves some time," Tygra muttered.

Lion-o ignored him.

* * *

><p>Scrub, rinse, wring, sniff. Scrub, rinse, wring, sniff.<p>

Finally satisfied that his pants no longer reeked of the swamp, Tygra gave them a final wring and threw them onto the river's rocky shore, where they joined his padded vest and gloves. Tygra gave his body a suspicious sniff, grimaced and ducked his head under the slow moving water. Emerging a few moments later, he used his hand to squeegee the excess water out his facial fur and snorted it out of his nose. He sniffed an arm and shook his head. "I think that scent is stuck up my nose," he muttered with a scowl. A muted chorus of crickets and tree frogs from the surrounding darkness was his only response.

He spent more time scrubbing his fur with handfuls of river bottom sand. Like most cats, Tygra liked to be clean. A final dunk and then he flicked droplets of water off his fingertips and began to make for shore, only to freeze momentarily at the crouched shape at the river's edge. Then a flicker of recognition crossed his face as he continued to head for the shallows, pausing when the water dropped from chest deep to waist deep. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and cocked his head to one side, sharp eyes allowing him to study his younger brother even in the filtered moonlight.

Lion-o, for his part, ignored Tygra. Still sporting a muddy coat, he remained seated on a boulder; head down with one knee drawn up to his chest, his right hand carefully stacking rounded pebbles on top of one another.

Tygra frowned. Patience had never been one of his strong points. "If you're here for a bath, the water is cool but serviceable. If you're here for a show," he shrugged carelessly, "well, you probably wouldn't be the first peeping tom in Thunderian history."

Lion-o's precariously stacked tower of pebbles collapsed; the younger cat's hand in the midst of putting another piece on top. His right hand clenched momentarily around the stone, then relaxed. For the first time he raised his head to meet his brother's gaze. "We need to talk."

"Figures you wouldn't be interesting enough to have a naughty habit."

"Tygra… please."

The word, so seldom used between them, made the tiger pause in his teasing. "Fine. I'm coming out though."

It was Lion-o's turn to shrug; although after his brother's comments he found his cheeks warming slightly as he made a show of shifting his gaze to the sky. The triple moons hid behind a curtain of swiftly moving clouds, highlighting their tops and casting their bottoms in shifting shadows. Lion-o tracked his brother's movements with his ears, grateful when Tygra spent only a minimal time drying off before pulling his damp pants back on.

That act was a courtesy, Lion-o knew, his brother being as confident about his body as he seemingly was about everything else. The young lion often privately wished he could emulate his brother in that regard, but then again, Tygra wasn't king. His decisions didn't affect the well-being of everyone else. Maybe that was why he could afford to be so sure all the time. Or maybe it was a special quality, something ingrained that Tygra possessed and Lion-o simply did not. He didn't know.

As his brother settled on a nearby rock, Lion-o tossed his pebble into the river. He knew what he wanted to say, but he wasn't quite sure how to say it.

Tygra eyed his brother's solemn face and then sighed. Whatever 'talk' Lion-o had in mind, he knew there was little to no chance that he would enjoy it. Still, he wanted to give the young king enough time to gather his thoughts. So he sat, forcing himself to be still, forcing himself to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of his fur slowly rising into the air as it dried enough to do so, and of his damp pants clinging to him in unmentionable places.

He shifted slightly, two fingers starting to drum against his perch before he made an effort to still them. A faint memory flitted through the back of his mind. _"The boy just can't seem to sit still enough for the training." "Takes after his father, I suppose." _And then it was gone. Tygra couldn't place the who or the why, but he knew someone had been terribly disappointed in him.

A sense of unease arose within him. He stood abruptly, his physical discomfort forgotten in the wake of his mental troubles. "Well, nice talk, little brother. We should do this again sometime. See you back at camp."

"Tygra… sit down."

It was a command from his King. The elder had little choice but to obey.

Lion-o took a deep breath and let it out, pivoting on his rump to face his brother. He clasped his hands together, unclasped them and then nervously ran a hand through his spikey hair. Finally he spoke, the words once again those of a brother instead of those of a leader. "At first I thought it was me, you know, that I was imagining it. But after today and thinking about it, I realized it was true. You've been avoiding it since the destruction of Thundera. And I want to know why."

"Um, you kind of lost me there, little brother."

Lion-o gestured towards Tygra's belt. "Your whip. The one Father gave to you. I can understand choosing the gun in distance situations, but you do it even during close combat. Why?"

Lion-o saw a flicker of emotion cross Tygra's face, and then it became an unreadable mask. His brother again rose.

"That's all? Then it's settled. It _is_ you and you're being ridiculous."

Lion-o got up too, but slowly. He tried to keep his voice calm and even. "Then why didn't you use it today?"

Tygra dragged a hand over his face and gave his brother a glare. He used his most condescending tone of voice. "Because water and invisibility don't mix. All it takes is an ill-timed splash or some mud spatter or even too much blasted mist in the air to spoil the illusion. Using it in a swamp?" he snorted derisively. "What a _foolish_ idea."

Lion-o closed his eyes briefly, not allowing the surprising amount of vitriol to affect him. He was right, he _knew_ he was right, and Tygra's strong response only proved it. "Fine, but the point remains. You haven't used it since we left Thundera."

"Not that it matters, but I used it in the Thundrillium Mines."

"Only because Panthro told you to and you didn't want to lose face by refusing him."

"I don't have to listen to this shit."

"No, but I am your King and you _do_ have to listen to me. From now on, I want you to use it and practice with it. Any one of us can use a gun. Only you can use the whip. I won't have you getting rusty because of some stupid stubbornness."

He saw the flash of rage in Tygra's face a second too late. Lion-o knew in that moment that he'd gone too far; that even while trying to remain calm and logical and even reasonable, he'd crossed an invisible line. All of a sudden, the larger cat was standing toe to toe with him, a trembling finger poking into his chest.

"_King?_" Tygra hissed. "_King?_ Then I wish you'd _act _like it instead of like some petty little tyrant. Listen up, Lion-o, and listen good. You are my brother and Claudus' one true heir and because of that I'll _follow_ you; I'll _fight _for you and I'd even _die _for you. But don't think, not even for an instant, that you can _dictate_ every little thing."

He stood back, arm still trembling with suppressed tension. "Father was an effective ruler because the people loved him. They _wanted_ to follow him. You… Some days you have that sword so far up your ass that I can barely stand to be around you. 'Lord of the ThunderCats?'" He laughed. "You really have a long way to go."

Lion-o flinched as his deepest fears were vocalized. The bitter words stung his heart, paralyzing his body. He had forgotten that Tygra was a master of all the weapons he possessed, tongue included. It felt… it felt like something between them had suddenly splintered and it hurt more than he'd ever admit. He remained frozen as his brother angrily snagged his vest and gloves off the ground, preparing to stalk away.

Lion-o shook himself free of the paralysis and sprang forward in time to grab his brother's forearm. He could feel the taut muscles ripple beneath his grip, could see the spasm of energy run up Tygra's spine. He swiftly released his brother's arm. Words tumbled freely from his lips; he no longer cared about their order or tone. He just needed to get them out into the open. He needed Tygra to hear him. He needed an answer.

"Since Thundera… I've been getting angry at you for no reason. At first, at first I thought it was because you are you and we're brothers and sometimes you just piss me off. But then I slowly began to realize the thing about the whip. And I thought…" Lion-o paused and tried to structure his thoughts into something his brother would comprehend. "It felt like you were rejecting it or something. I know Father gave it to you when you gave up sword training and when you stopped using it altogether, it felt like you were rejecting _him_."

"Lion-o…"

"So I thought maybe if there was a reason, you know, something I couldn't see, maybe then I could understand. Maybe I could stop being so angry about it. Because the only reason I can see is…" Lion-o's voice trailed off. Tygra slowly turned his head to regard the young king. The lion swallowed and took a deep breath, his eyes unnaturally shiny in the dim light. "Tygra… do you hate Father? Because the Sword of Omens went to me? Is that why?"

Tygra closed his eyes, anger draining out of him and leaving only exhaustion in its wake. He turned away before opening his eyes again. He didn't want to see Lion-o like that, eyes shining with unshed tears, so young to be so burdened. It meant that he had once again failed in the only role that mattered to him anymore.

"Honestly, you are such a kitten sometimes." The words slipped out quietly, without any malice. "It has nothing to do with you or with Father. I always knew you'd be the heir to the sword. It never really mattered to me except for when you got cavalier about things. All I wanted was…"

The words slowed and stopped. When he spoke again, Tygra's words were so soft that they were threatened to be swallowed up by the surrounding dark. "I _failed_, Lion-o. I thought I was so strong, so skilled, but in the end I could do nothing to save Father or Jaga… or the Kingdom. Nothing. All my training, all the work I put into mastering the fighting arts and this whip and it made no difference whatsoever. You know who made a difference? You and your technology. Maybe if I had listened to your babbling, maybe if I had paid even the slightest bit of attention… Maybe if I had been a _better brother_, things would be different. That's why. Using the whip just reminds me of how much I failed."

The tiger took a breath, his voice resuming its normal inflections. "But you're right. I shouldn't let myself get rusty." He began once again to move towards their camp.

"Tygra…"

"You really should take a bath, Lion-o. For a king, you really stink."

And then he was gone.

**TBC...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

"Lion-o." A blond-furred hand descended towards his shoulder.

"I'm awake."

The cleric rocked back on her heels as Lion-o threw back his covers. Around the glowing embers of their campfire, the others did not stir. The red-head slipped on his shoes and attached his golden gauntlet to his belt as Cheetara waited. "Any signs of trouble?" he asked quietly as he made ready to take his turn on watch.

"No… but after running into that lizard patrol today, it won't hurt to be extra vigilant."

"Don't worry; I'll be careful." He rose, preparations complete.

"Lion-o," Cheetara gave him a concerned look, "is something troubling you?"

The young 'Cat forced a smile and held up a paw. "No, no, of course not. Get some sleep. I'll see you in a couple of hours."

Unconvinced, the cleric watched as her king headed for the outskirts of camp, giving his pet a quiet admonishment to stay put before disappearing into the shadows. With a soft sigh, she turned to observe the others. Panthro was lying on his back, one arm thrown over his eyes as he snored away. The kittens were curled tightly to one another, balled up under their covers as if it were cold. Tygra… Tygra's back was to the fire, a mirror of the position she had found Lion-o in. And judging by his breathing, he wasn't asleep either.

So the issue was one between the brothers then. Graceful brows arched down as she considered. If her mentor were here, he'd probably know what to say… or what _not_ to say, in order to help smooth their ruffled fur.

If the problem had resided with Lion-o alone, she'd have felt more confident intervening. As a cleric, Cheetara had regularly been assigned to follow and guard the blood-heir. In truth, he had often impressed her during his forays into the lower city. Because of her observations both then and now, she felt she understood what the young king needed: someone to believe in him when his confidence faltered and some gentle nudging now and then in the right direction.

But, aside from his lineage, Tygra was more of an enigma to her. Around the palace he had been known as a self-assured flirt, and as a skilled warrior with a bold, regal demeanor. Even amongst the clerics, there had been those who had quietly lamented the elder prince's lack of blood ties to the throne. Jaga had simply murmured that both sons of Claudus would find their proper roles in time.

Cheetara ran her fingers through her hair before rising to move to her own sleeping spot. Yes, time solved many problems. She would leave things be for now and hope that the two would work things out in the morning. That was probably the best course of action.

* * *

><p>Lion-o caught his head nodding and jerked it upright with a start. He growled softly at himself as he shook his head in an attempt to stay awake.<p>

The tree branch in which he was perched allowed him a good view of the surrounding terrain. Lion-o liked to alternate foot patrol with a more stationary look out, utilizing his sharp senses to observe the area. The cats divided the watch duties between them with each adult taking a two hour shift. A practical system, it afforded each cat around six hours of sleep.

Unfortunately, Lion-o's six hours had been spent in restless contemplation. For some reason, he had believed that he was the only one who shouldered the burden of the loss of their father, Jaga and Thundera. The idea that Tygra was so affected, to the point that his favorite weapon lay coiled and untouched by his side, was eye-opening.

And then there were the angry words Tygra had spoken. Was he really more of a petty dictator than a king? Was he trying too hard to assert his authority over the others, especially since he was the youngest 'adult' amongst them? But he couldn't just allow them to say or do whatever they wanted, right?

His hand fell to the golden gauntlet dangling from his belt; he stroked light fingers across the hilt of the sword embedded in it. Like it or not, it was his responsibility to find the Book of Omens, permanently defeat Mumm-ra and restore Thundera to its glory. No… he wanted it to be _better_ than before, more inclusive, so that the kind of resentment that had led the lizards to join forces with Mumm-ra would no longer be fostered in the other animals.

His eyes drifted closed as he pictured it: New Thundera, a utopia where all animals were happy and free…

'_Crunch'_

The soft, out of place noise jerked Lion-o awake again. He stiffened in his tree branch lookout, all senses heightened by a sudden feeling of dread. He strained his eyes, scanning the forest in quadrants, searching for any movement. Nothing. His ears twitched, seeking a repeat of the sound that had disturbed him. Nothing. In fact, the forest was unnaturally quiet. The usual chorus of insects had ceased their endless song.

Lion-o felt his hackles rise. Something was very, very wrong here. Moving very slowly, he eased out of his tree, dropping softly to crouch in the leaf litter below. Nostrils flared as he tested the air. The faint hint of machine oil gave them away. Lizards… cloaked and already past his position… and something else, something very old…

"Mumm-ra." Lion-o breathed out. "Oh no."

He froze with indecision for the briefest of moments. And then he understood with clarity what needed to be done. He drew the Sword of Omens, the mystical artifact springing to full length straight out of its sheath.

"ThunderCats, Ho!" he yelled at the top of his lungs, the sword amplifying his call. Energy danced along the blade, swathing the area around him in a brilliant blue glow as the red symbol of their clan blazed into the sky. The lizard contingent fell out of chameleon mode; Lion-o was horrified to see how close they were to the campsite. Now their focus was solely on him. As one they made an about-face, swarming towards the obvious target he provided.

"Well that was brilliant," Lion-o muttered sarcastically, falling into a defensive stance. A few energy blasts were fired in his direction, easily deflected. But they ceased when a red cloaked figure shuffled between Lion-o and the lizard horde.

For a being used for generations to frighten naughty kittens into behaving, Mumm-ra didn't appear too threatening. He possessed hunched shoulders with his skeletal head riding too far forward, missing teeth, and dried skin that clung directly to bone with very little in the way of muscle between them. He smelled not of rot or death, but of dust – like a sealed chamber being walked through for the first time in centuries. But still… something beneath the withered form sent Lion-o's instincts screaming with a flight or fight response, so much so that when the mummy extended a bony hand in his direction, he actually took a step back.

"Sacrificing yourself for the sake of your friends? How very noble," the creature grated out. "But know this. Only by returning the stone shall you buy them the mercy of a swift demise."

"Never!"

Behind the mummy, sounds of a pitched battle began rising from near the campsite.

"So be it. Ancient spirits of evil, transform this decayed form into Mumm-ra – The Ever Living!"

Darkness engulfed the slouched form, writhing in the blue light cast by the sword. Emerging from it strode a beast over twice Lion-o's size, with bulging muscles that put Panthro's to shame. Huge bat-like wings unfurled as Mumm-ra roared, and then purple lightning lashed out from his clawed hands. Lion-o braced himself behind the sword, pushing back with all his strength as the evil energy bombarded his weapon. His toe-claws scrambled to find purchase in the soft forest soil.

"Hang on boy! Panthro's coming!"

Eyes squinted against the combined energy dancing on his sword, Lion-o could just make out the bodies of lizards flying through the air. Off to the side, a golden glow zigzagged through their ranks. But his allies seemed so very far away.

"Ha, ha," Mumm-ra cackled. "How long do you plan on cowering behind that sword?" He blasted the ThunderCat again and again, each consecutive strike numbing the young king's arm up to the shoulder and driving him back. The fifth attack sent the sword flying from his unfeeling hand.

"Finally, the Stone is mine once again."

Panting, Lion-o inserted himself between the towering beast and the sword, arms outspread. He knew it was a hopeless, stupid gesture. But he had to try.

Mumm-ra sneered. "Foolish cat. Time to join your father." Purple energy snaked its way up his massive body, concentrating itself not only on the creature's hands, but also in its mouth. Lion-o braced himself. Time seemed to slow down. Mumm-ra clapped his hands together, a narrow beam of intense purple light shooting from them straight towards Lion-o. A second, wider blast came from the monster's gaping maw.

There was nowhere to run. There was no time to dodge.

Off to his left, Lion-o could see Cheetara fighting her way through the lizards. In the dragging, empty space between heartbeats, he could see the high speed cleric's every move. She sidestepped one lizard, tripped another; all while whirling her staff, sending it flying into heads, abdomens, groins, and knees. Beautiful in her savagery, even the cheetah's swift feet wouldn't bring her to him in time.

In a way he was glad. Glad she wouldn't get hurt on his behalf, glad he could die brave and strong, protecting the sword like his ancestors. Like a true king.

Just behind Mumm-ra, Lion-o made out the form of Panthro. The scarred veteran plowed through the lizard ranks, not even bothering with combat. One hand was outstretched as a look of panic settled on the general's face, Lion-o's name on his lips. He wasn't going to make it on time either. But perhaps together, Cheetara and Panthro could save the sword… spirit it away and continue the quest without him.

He wished he could tell them how proud he was to be their king, however briefly his reign had lasted. He wished he could say goodbye.

His heart beat again. Time sped back up. Brilliant purple light engulfed his vision, blocking out everything else. The beams impacted just in front of the stunned cat, highlighting the outline of a slightly bigger, more muscular feline just before the form crashed into him, knocking him off his feet.

"Ty…Tygra?" Lion-o shook his head, dazed. The wretched scent of burnt fur and blood assaulted his nose. The last vestiges of invisibility flickered into nonexistence, revealing his brother's limp form. Pinned beneath his brother's back, a strange sound filled Lion-o's ears.

"Hrrk… hrrrrk…"

He struggled to pull himself out from under Tygra. Bits of charred fur floated in the air. Blood splatter covered everything.

"Huurrrrk… heh… hrrk…"

Any second now, any second Tygra would turn his head. He'd give Lion-o a smirk and say something confident and slightly insulting. Any second now.

"Heh… hurrk…"

He was still trapped. He couldn't see Tygra's face. He _needed_ to see Tygra's face.

"Foolish cat! Face the wrath of Mumm-ra!" Wings fully outspread the Thunderian's ancient foe strode forward, dark energy once again gathering in his palms. A flash of gold sped in from the side. Cheetara staggered the monster with a forceful kick to the face, landing between Mumm-ra and Claudus' sons.

"I've got him!" Panthro's iron nun-chuks swung around Mumm-ra's neck. Grasping both solid ends, he jumped on the monster's back and pulled the chain tight against the villain's throat. The large beast staggered and spun, one hand clawing at the chain while the other took ineffectual swipes at Panthro.

Lion-o finally managed to pull himself free. "Tygra?" The tiger was a mess. At first Lion-o didn't know where to look. His brother had been facing Mumm-ra when he had taken the blast, head taking shelter behind crossed forearms. But the bulk of the evil energy had impacted his chest.

"Oh, no, no, no, no. Tygra… why?" Blood ran in rivulets, creating a new pattern of stripes. The tiger's chest was a mangled red mess. Blood bubbled from his mouth with every labored, shallow breath, dripping steadily from his nose. Every intake of air created the strange 'hrrk' sound Lion-o had been hearing. A dark red puddle silently began to spread from beneath his brother's limp body.

Horrified, Lion-o stood frozen for a moment, everything else forgotten. Dull, pain-filled eyes sought his out and his brother's mouth twitched. Lion-o fell to his knees. "No, don't talk. Just… stay still. It'll be okay, okay?" He had to swallow hard, once, twice, before he could force the lies to continue. "It's just a scratch. You'll be better in no time. Just… just don't move."

Tygra gave him a slight frown. Dark eyes closed, then laboriously reopened. Again his mouth began to move, a gurgling sound coming out. Near tears, Lion-o bent over to try and make out his brother's words. "Lin… mm...ssss…" Tygra's eyes drifted closed.

Cheetara spared the king and prince a glance, wincing at the amount of damage Tygra had endured. But her paws were full at the moment protecting them. Lizards, regrouping around the struggling Mumm-ra, found themselves taken out of the fight before they even knew what hit them. She spun her staff, cracking it across skulls, fracturing wrists and dislocating knees with forceful strikes. And still they came.

Mumm-ra threw himself backwards into a towering oak, crushing Panthro between his body and the tree. The battle weary general's grip slipped and the mummy was free. Stunned, Panthro staggered a few steps before shaking his head and re-centering himself, just in time to block a powerful punch. Mumm-ra's fanged maw opened wide and dark energy spewed out, blasting Panthro off his feet.

"Insects!" the mummy roared. "I'll crush you all…?" A rumbling filled the forest, accompanied by the cracks and snaps of trees being felled. The lizards scattered as the Thunder Tank bounced into view. It veered to the left and then over corrected to the right before straightening its course, bearing straight for Mumm-ra. Huge bat wings spread wide, flapping hard. The creature rose into the air.

"Oh no you don't!" Cheetara vaulted over Mumm-ra's head, spun and swung her staff down with all her might. The powerful impact drove the beast back to earth, just in time for the veering Thunder Tank to collide into him.

Cheetara and Panthro shielded their eyes as the tank's treads threw dirt and stones up into the air as it sped by. Then it ran into the ancient oak, and came to a sudden, jarring halt, Mumm-ra pinned between the now dented and smoking front end of the tank and the sturdy tree. Leaves rained down as everyone, lizards and cats alike, stared flabbergasted at the sight. Panthro perhaps was the most stunned, obviously caught between joy at the apparent defeat of their evil enemy and horror at the damage done to his beloved tank.

The main hatch rattled and slowly opened, revealing two disoriented kittens. "Ugh," WilyKit said, and then with more enthusiasm, she nudged her brother. "Hey, we did it!"

WilyKat groaned too, but responded with a weak smile. Then both kittens caught sight of Panthro's shocked and rapidly reddening face. Each instantly point a finger at the other as they simultaneously exclaimed, "She/He did it!"

Cheetara spared the two a smile before speeding away. It was the other pair of siblings that needed her attention now. Tygra's gurgling breath filled her ears as soon as she arrived. Lion-o knelt beside him, hunched shoulders shaking as tears rolled down his cheeks. "Lion-o, turn his head so the blood can drain out." The young cat remained motionless. "Lion-o…"

"I couldn't understand them." Moist, sorrowful eyes turned to Cheetara. "His last words, he was trying to tell me something but I couldn't… I couldn't understand."

The cleric's first instinct was to gather the shocked and mourning young man to her, soothe his tears and reassure him. But that's not what the situation required. Instead she shook him by his shoulders, hard. "Lion-o, no one has spoken his last words yet. Now get up and retrieve your sword…"

"Who cares about the stupid sword!"

Her slap caught him off guard; one shaking hand touched his cheek as he stared at her in disbelief. "Your _father_ cared about the sword, _Jaga _cared about the sword, _Tygra_ cared about the sword. And they all cared about _you _even more. Retrieve your sword. Lead us. This battle isn't over yet."

She was right. The remaining lizards would be easy to route, but it would take more than Panthro and the Wily kittens to do it. Just then, the sound of shrieking metal filled the air. Mumm-ra strained and grunted, pushing the Thunder Tank back one impossible inch at a time.

Lion-o rose, grief stricken eyes hardening with rage. "Help Tygra," he ordered as he grabbed the Sword of Omens. "Mumm-ra's mine!"

The remaining lizards rallied at the sight of their leader's recovery. With one final grunt of effort, the sinister beast freed himself. Wings outstretched, he roared his victory to the sky. But his voice trailed off as he noticed how light the sky had become. The first beams of morning sunlight easily fell into the clearing the Thunder Tank had created.

"Noooo!" Mumm-ra shrieked as his massive form began to smoke and condense. "The _light_!"

"No!" Lion-o's roar reverberated. The blazing Sword of Omens cleaved downward a moment too late. Reduced to a small ball of energy, Mumm-ra was already retreating. "NO!" Lion-o screamed again, turning both his wrath and his sword on the suddenly demoralized lizard army. They scrambled to get away from the raging lion and his powerful sword.

Cheetara turned her attention back to Tygra. One battle was won, but she feared the other had only just begun.

_**TBC…**_

**A/N: **Um, wow. Thanks for all of the attention, guys. The alerts and favs have been amazing. And the reviews as well, of course. I'm flattered and also slightly nervous over whether or not this story is worth all of the attention. Anyways, thanks again!

P.s. Never thought I'd have to use a "ThunderCats, Ho!" in my story. Ugh. Forgive the cheesiness please, but at least it's in-character. Yeah, we'll just go with that. ;)


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** You guys have been amazingly nice so far. Many thanks. Just so you know, this is where the story takes a nose-dive into A.U. ville. So hopefully it won't make your eyebrows twitch or your noses wrinkle in disbelief…

**Chapter Four:**

Blood. There was so much of it everywhere that even the cleric had a hard time knowing where to start. Lion-o alternately hovered and paced, hovered and paced, not making the job any easier. She wished she had a task, _any_ task, to send him on.

Panthro came jogging back from the Thunder Tank, his arms loaded with clean blankets, containers of water and their minimal amount of medicinal supplies. As a soldier, he had experience field treating wounds so she set him to work on Tygra's arms, which had sustained minor damage from the blast. Tygra's chest was left to her.

Cheetara frowned as she worked, cleaning away the excess blood so she could see where the actual damage was located. How she wished Tygra had thrown on his protective vest when the camp had been roused by Lion-o's call. But they had been caught so unawares that everybody responded in what they had been sleeping in.

"Um… Cheetara?" Wilykit shifted nervously from foot to foot. "I found this vial and thought maybe it would be useful?"

The older cat tried hard not to growl in irritation. "Thank you, dear. Put it down over there and I'll check it out later."

"'Kay." The young girl set her vial down and gave the wounded prince a long, worried look before scurrying back to join her brother. Curiosity had evidently been her motivation for the interruption, not that Cheetara could blame the girl. She didn't believe that any of the group had spoken to the siblings about what had happened to Tygra; it was natural for them to be nervous and concerned.

At least they were keeping busy and mostly out from underfoot. The kittens were ransacking the lizard bodies; there was no other polite way to put it. Food and other supplies were liberated from their dead assaulters with a practiced ease that made Cheetara wonder what kind of life the two had lived previous to Thundera's destruction. But that was a question to ponder at another time.

She continued to mop away the excess blood, discovering that Tygra's chest wasn't wounded nearly as bad as she had feared, at least not on the surface. The skin at the heart of the blast had been severely burnt, blisters already formed and oozing – a painful, serious situation, but probably not life threatening unless they got infected.

The blood leaked from a thousand minute cuts surrounding the burnt section. Cheetara winced as she gently probed the depth of the slashes. Again, though nasty to look at and certainly painful to poor Tygra, the cleric didn't feel they were in any danger of ending his life.

Then the comatose tiger wheezed and struggled for breath. His body attempted to curl into itself, until Panthro pinned his arms and Cheetara held his legs. Cough after cough wracked his body; bright crimson blood exploded from his mouth and nose with each strained exhale. Each inhale gurgled and stuttered, becoming shallower and shallower, until finally the fit stopped. Tygra's tense body slowly relaxed and Cheetara took advantage to press her ear against his chest.

"Well?" Panthro asked quietly as the cleric rocked back on her heels, her face solemn. "Should I even bother with these?" the general gestured towards Tygra's partially bandaged arms.

"Of course you should!" Lion-o exploded. "Right, Cheetara? Tygra will be fine!"

The two older cats exchanged glances before red-orange eyes met blue. "Lion-o, he has serious internal injuries. We can patch up the outside, but inside…" She shook her head sadly. "I'm afraid there's little we can do."

The young king jerked as if she had slapped him again. "No," he shook his head. "No. You're a cleric. Can't you…" He gestured helplessly at Tygra's body.

"Not all clerics are healers, Lion-o. In fact, the ability to use the healing arts on others is a rare skill among us."

"Too bad he doesn't take after his mother," Panthro muttered.

Cheetara blinked in surprise, but then again Panthro had served Claudus a long time. Of course he'd know of Siberia.

"Wait, what? What does Mom have to do with this?"

"Not Queen Irene, Lion-o. Tygra's mother, Siberia, was a cleric, a powerful healer," Cheetara explained. "But according to Jaga, Tygra was tested as a young cub and failed to master the most basic meditation techniques." She gave the unconscious form a slight smile. "Apparently, he just couldn't sit still long enough."

"Took after his father," Panthro rumbled, looking away. "I saw his end too. Damn shame."

Lion-o fell to his knees. "He's… Tygra's not going to die. He can't. Jaga said I wouldn't be alone…" The whispered voice hitched up at the end as hot tears burned their way down Lion-o's face. He took his brother's paw and held it in both of his. Unstoppable tears dampened both their fur. He had been trying so hard to be a strong king, a reliable, unflappable ruler. But this, this was too much to take.

"_Stupid _Tygra," he muttered. "You're always so damn stubborn. Why'd you choose _now_ to listen to me? Why'd you have to use the whip? I wish you had just shot at him with the gun. Now look at yourself."

"Look at himself?" Cheetara repeated, brows furrowing down. "That's it! Self-healing!" The two males looked at the excited cleric quizzically. "All clerics have the ability to enter a meditative trance, a state that accelerates their body's healing."

"But you just said that Tygra failed even the most basic cleric training."

"As a _cub_, Lion-o. But it is possible that he still possesses the innate ability. He just doesn't know how to use it."

"Girl, you better not be thinking what I think you're thinking."

"We have no other options, Panthro. It may not be one of my stronger skills, but if I can form a mind-link with him, I might be able to push him into the trance."

Wasting no more time with words, Cheetara shifted her position. Kneeling down next to Tygra's head, she placed a slender hand across the wounded cat's brow. Taking a deep breath, the cleric closed her eyes.

"What is she…?"

"Shhh."

Lion-o frowned, but remained silent. Cheetara's breathing slowed.

In his clasped paws, Tygra's hand twitched. "Tygra?" he called hopefully. But beneath Cheetara's hand, the tiger's brows had furrowed down. His face spasmed and then grimaced. The low sound of a growl rumbled in his chest, which triggered another bloody coughing fit. Cheetara jerked her hand back as Tygra twisted to the side and rasped for breath. For one terrible moment it appeared as if he had stopped breathing altogether. But then the gathered group saw his chest rise and fall weakly.

Cheetara shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. "It's no good. His mind is fragmented and confused. He sees me as an intruder. He fought my presence. I don't know him well enough to find his true self and convince him to listen."

"Yeah… listening has never been one of his strong points…" Lion-o murmured. Then he blinked. "Cheetara, let me try! Tygra knows me; he probably won't fight me. Please! This is all my fault; let me try and reach him."

The cheetah gave her king a sad smile as she dropped a hand on his shoulder. "Lion-o, I know how much he means to you…"

"No you don't! _He _doesn't even know. All we ever do is fight and I never even had the chance to say I'm sorry. _Please!_"

"You're not a cleric, boy." Panthro rumbled. "It doesn't matter how much you want to, you don't have the skills to form a mind link."

"He's right, Lion-o."

Lion-o forced down his panic and ire with an effort. There _had_ to be a way. Restlessly he fingered the hilt of the Sword of Omens. Suddenly an idea began to form. He frowned thoughtfully for a moment. Then he pulled his sheathed sword from its resting place. It remained small, no longer than a dagger as its master contemplated it.

"Sometimes, when I wield the sword, I swear I can feel all of you. Like we're somehow connected. The Eye of Thundera is supposed to grant 'sight beyond sight'. Isn't this just another aspect of that? Just tell me what to do. I can find Tygra or whatever you need. Please, Cheetara. I _have _to try."

The cleric sighed. "Lion-o, it isn't as easy as you think. His mind is a mess; you might get lost in there. And there is another danger. If Tygra passes while you're linked, he will drag you down with him."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

"But perhaps not one you _should_ take. You are the only heir to the blood, the only possible wielder of the Sword of Omens. If we lose you, we lose everything."

"He's my brother."

"Show him, Cheetara." Panthro rose and clapped Lion-o firmly on the back, hard enough to make the lion wince. "Looks like this one takes after his father too. I'm going to see if I can get the Thunder Tank up and running. We need to put some distance between us and this place before nightfall." He strode away, pausing to speak to WilyKat and WilyKit before proceeding to the tank.

Lion-o turned his blue eyes back to Cheetara. She yielded to his pleading gaze. "All right, Lion-o, here's what we're going to do…" The cleric took the Sword of Omens and clasped one of Tygra's hands on it. Then she guided Lion-o's on top of it. "You're going to have to activate the sword. Try to recreate the 'connected' feeling you sometimes experience. Reach for Tygra's mind. Remember, you're going to have to find his true self, his consciousness, in order for this to work. Don't get distracted by what you might see or hear in there."

Lion-o's grip tightened over his brother's hand. "Right."

"I can't follow you. His mind rejected me once and might evict you if it senses my presence. But once you find him, call for me and I'll be there."

"Right."

The young king looked so determined that the cleric couldn't help by smile at him. "Relax. Follow your instincts. It will be alright."

Lion-o returned her smile briefly, then his gaze firmed. He stared at the sword, at the dormant Eye of Thundera. "Sword of Omens," he intoned solemnly, "give me sight beyond sight."

The blade responded with a pulse of energy, but that wasn't what he wanted. Lion-o closed his eyes, reaching for that sensation he sometimes felt when he activated the sword's power, the feeling that all the ThunderCats were joining him, bonding with him as he swung the blade. He experienced it last night, he knew that he had, when he used the sword to warn the others of the lizards' impending attack.

"Lion-o, not all of us. Focus on Tygra."

Right. His brother. Lion-o pictured the cat in his mind. The first image was of his bloody body, lips moving soundlessly as he tried to tell Lion-o something. Shuddering, he pushed the image away. He summoned another one, one of Tygra's half grins – the expression he often gave when he was teasing. His brother ruffling his mane, calling him a kitten. Tygra tossing him a sword a second before their father swung the Sword of Omens at his head during his initiation.

"_That's it, Lion-o, you're almost there."_

Was that Cheetara's voice? She seemed so far away.

Tygra stood next to him, confident and strong as they faced off against a mob of angry cats. Tygra yelling at him, telling him to take his role as Prince more seriously. A feeling of regret clawed at him; Lion-o felt himself falling, getting sucked down, down…

Blackness encompassed everything. A single image remained. Tygra's bloody lips, moving slowly, trying to form words. But this time, instead of hissing out in unintelligible syllables, they echoed around him, filling the surrounding darkness with his brother's voice.

"Lion-o, I'm sorry."

* * *

><p>Cheetara watched as her king's eyes closed. The Sword of Omens, still in its diminutive form, emitted a soft blue glow. The Eye of Thundera blazed to life, the vertical slit that gave the stone its name dilating fully. For a second Cheetara felt the call, the urgent need to be by her king's side, to fight with him against whatever foe stood in the ThunderCats' way. From near the tank, both WilyKit and her brother stared towards Lion-o, their eyes glowing.<p>

Cheetara freed herself from the compulsion. "Lion-o, not all of us. Focus on Tygra."

Within moments the pull of the call subsided. The kittens went back to their tasks and the Eye of Thundera narrowed its pupil.

The lion shivered but then his furrowed brows relaxed minutely. Both he and Tygra took a breath simultaneously. Once, then twice. Cheetara could almost feel Lion-o's consciousness slip away, moving elsewhere.

"That's it, Lion-o, you're almost there." She encouraged in a hushed voice.

Tygra took a half breath, alone this time. His face twitched; his unencumbered hand did the same. Cheetara hesitated to take it, lest she disturb the fragile bond being formed. The cleric was surprised to discover that she was holding her breath. Then a low noise emerged; a tiny, tiny sound. Glancing between the brothers, the blond cat cocked her head to one side, trying to locate and identify the sound. Then she smiled. It was a purr, a minute fragment of one, but a purr all the same, rising from Tygra's chest each time he took a shallow breath.

Amazed, the cat sat back, giving her king a fond smile. Beyond all expectations, Lion-o had done it!

**TBC…**


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five:**

"Lion-o, I'm sorry."

The familiar masculine tones of his brother's voice were everywhere, reverberating through the darkness, echoing back over and over, until Lion-o wanted to clap his paws over his ears. His brother was _there;_ he could feel Tygra's presence surrounding him.

And then it was gone. The darkness too ended, lifting with a startling abruptness, like a curtain rising and leaving Lion-o center stage.

Blinking, he looked around, instantly recognizing the spotless white limestone walls. The castle of Thundera. He was home.

In wonder, he touched the smooth blocks that made up the hallway in which he stood. They were noticeably cool to the touch, so solid and real that for a second Lion-o felt tears spring to his eyes. And then he heard voices coming down the corridor. Feeling an absurd sense of panic, the cat cast about for a place to hide, but it was too late.

A younger version of himself marched swiftly down the hall, a worn blue cloak pulled up over his head and something fuzzy and squirming clasped in his hands. Frozen, Lion-o could only watch as 'himself' came straight at him. But neither of the approaching cats paid him any mind. The younger's attention was on the tiger trailing only two paces behind him.

"Hey," Tygra growled, "I'm not done talking to you."

"Well I'm done talking to you!"

Lion-o blinked. "I remember this," he muttered as his fourteen year old self barreled by, Tygra right on his heels. The two teens ignored him completely, playing out their roles in Tygra's memory.

"Hey!" Tygra's paw landed on Lion-o's shoulder, spinning him around a second before he made it to the safety of his room. The younger prince quickly shifted his squirming burden to behind his back, as a petulant scowl shifted his features.

Tygra matched it with an angry one of his own, lips curled in a sneer as he regarded Lion-o's attire. "Where have you been all afternoon? And what's up with this disgusting outfit?"

"I don't have to answer to you," the fourteen year old spat, one hand grasping blindly for the handle to his bedroom door.

Tygra's eyes narrowed, the barest rumble of a growl tingeing his words. "You _missed _my initiation."

Blue eyes widened slightly, then narrowed. Forcing apathy, the younger cat refused to meet his brother's eyes. "So? I bet you passed. What a surprise for the always perfect Prince Tygra."

Silence. Tygra had not yet mastered the art of turning Lion-o's sarcasm against him. Standing in the hallway, watching the memory unfold, the young king saw for the first time the hurt expression on his brother's face. "Oh, Tygra, I didn't mean that. You know that right? I had just lost track of time. I mean, come on; I even missed my own…"

But the eighteen year old paid no heed to the elder Lion-o's words. His attention had been attracted by the snuffling sound emerging from behind the young Lion-o's cloak. "What are you hiding behind your back?"

"Nothing!" The teen's desperately searching hand finally found the door knob. The baby in his other paw chose that moment to mew. Tygra's eyebrows rose. The resulting scuffle between the brothers ended quickly. Tygra was always bigger, stronger and quicker, and Lion-o was more concerned with the safety of his find than with getting away.

"Stop it! You'll hurt him," the fourteen year old protested as Tygra easily wrested the little fuzzball from his hand. Holding it by the scruff of the neck while holding Lion-o at bay with his other hand, Tygra squinted at the curious cat-like creature.

"_This_ is what you missed my initiation for? What is it?"

"I found it; he's mine! Give him back." Lion-o struggled helplessly against his developed brother's bulk. The pet-to-be suddenly snuffled and sneezed, covering Tygra's face with minute droplets. The tiger grimaced and released Lion-o in order to wipe his face off. The younger prince held out his hands hopefully. "I'm thinking of naming him 'Snarf'."

Face still contorted in disgust, the elder gave the wriggling furball back to Lion-o. More voices came down the hall.

"Honestly, Jaga. That boy. Missing his brother's initiation. What am I to do with him?"

Frowning, Tygra nodded towards Lion-o's bedroom door. "Go on. Hide it. Play sick or something. Father might buy that."

The fourteen year old didn't waste time in escaping to his room. Tygra stood there for a moment, still frowning. Then he shook his head and sighed. Raking his claws through his hair, he reversed course down the hallway. Curious, the adult Lion-o attempted to follow. But the memory was fading now, turning grey around the edges. Only Tygra's voice echoed back. "Father! Good to see you. I was wondering if we could tour the outer walls together. I want to have a better idea of our defenses…"

"You… you covered for me?" Lion-o stated with surprise as the memory disappeared entirely. Darkness swallowed him up. "Damn it. Cheetara was right. I have to stay focused. I have to find the real you. Come on, Tygra. Help me out a little here."

As if in response to Lion-o's voice, light returned to his world. He was in a hallway again, a different one. A large, solid looking black door stood at the end of it. Just regarding it filled the young king with a sense of foreboding. Lion-o had explored every inch of the castle, but he had never seen it's like before.

He approached it cautiously, marveling at the details carved into the dark surface. A pattern of chains crisscrossed the door, matching perfectly with those carved on the door's frame. Here and there, the carved links appeared to sink into the ebony surface and symbols took their place. Although Lion-o couldn't read them, they looked like those that decorated ancient Thunderian texts. Even more curious was the fact that the door possessed no knob or handle, no obvious way to open it.

On closer inspection, he saw claw marks marred the carved door, as if someone had tried to force their way in with their bare paws. Puzzled, Lion-o laid one of his paws over the marks, forcing his fingers to spread wide in order to match them with the scratches. He gently traced the imperfections.

A flash subjugated his senses, staggering him backwards. Red covered everything. It ran down the white walls and pooled on the floor. Was it blood? The scent suddenly assaulted him – strong and cloying inside of his nose. Lion-o took a step backwards, vigorously rubbing his eyes. Opening them again, he regarded a normal castle hallway. The black door was gone.

Still reeling from the overwhelming scent of blood, Lion-o walked down the passageway, not really paying attention to where he was going. He almost collided with a pacing Tygra, far younger than the newly initiated cat he had last seen. The tiger appeared to be twelve, thirteen maybe; he looked lanky, without the developed muscles an older teen would possess.

Lion-o glanced around, instantly recognizing this wing of the castle as Cleric's Hall. His pacing brother paused before a door, raised a paw as if to knock, then grimaced and stalked away only to halt a few steps down the hall. "Son of a Lizard!" the young teen swore under his breath, shaking his head.

Lion-o raised a brow. Prince Tygra, resorting to low brow curses? But then again, he sort of understood. The door his brother was so reluctant to knock on belonged to Jaga and while Lion-o was quite fond of the Head Cleric, a trip to his personal office often meant an invasive physical exam, sometimes punctuated with a vile tasting tonic. Still, he never knew his brother to be so obviously reluctant.

Tygra returned to the cleric's door, paw once again raised.

"You may enter, Prince Tygra," Jaga's familiar voice came through the wood, "if you feel you are finished wearing out the tiles in the hall."

Grimacing, the teen's paw fell from knocking height to the doorknob. Squaring his shoulders, the tiger opened the door and walked in, the unseen Lion-o close behind. The young king smiled at the sight: Jaga's office, almost exactly as he remembered it. And the jaguar himself, not quite as old as he was in Lion-o's memories, but still sporting a long grey beard and squinty, twinkling eyes. He was sitting at his desk, an enormous tome opened before him. Lacing his lengthy, boney fingers together, the jaguar regarded the young tiger.

Tygra, not wasting any time on preamble, blurted out, "Lion-o is going to inherit the Sword of Omens, isn't he?"

Jaga raised a hairy brow. "The crown shall eventually pass to him and the Sword as well, if he proves worthy of it."

"Then why am I learning swordsmanship?" The young teen had taken to pacing again, striding erratically from one side of the large room to the other.

"Do you not enjoy the sword, Prince Tygra? General Grune is most complimentary of your skills."

"I do! But Lion-o… he's younger, you know? I don't mean to make him mad, but I… And he _needs_ to learn the sword. So that he can be king. So…"

By now the observing lion was very confused. But Jaga just smiled at the young prince before him. "I think I understand. You want a different weapon to master, one that perhaps your brother will not be expected to learn."

Brown eyes brightened as Tygra flashed Jaga a wide smile. "Yes!"

"Very well. I will broach the subject with King Claudus tomorrow."

The memory began to fade. "Wait, what?" Lion-o asked. He remembered his brother giving up the sword; he had claimed to be bored with it.

"I believe I have just the weapon for you, Prince Tygra. One that will put your inherited skills to best use…"

Jaga's words echoed in the grey stillness surrounding the confused king. Then the grey lifted, but just barely. Lion-o squinted, reaching a paw out as if he could wave the mist away. His father's warm baritone called, "Come, my son. Don't be shy. It is time to meet your new brother."

The scene lightened up a bit more, but remained foggy. The scents, however, were strong and recognizable. Mother, Father, Jaga… Lion-o felt his heart give a weird thud in his chest. They moved like the ghosts they were: vague, tall figures with blurry indistinct features. Suddenly Claudus came into sharp focus, his face far gentler than Lion-o could ever recall it being. And nestled securely in his paws, wrapped in royal blue, a tiny form squirmed.

A small tiger cub shifted his weight from foot to foot, one furry finger stuck in his mouth. Then he seemed to remember himself and straightened, paws clasped politely behind his back. Still, the young Tygra flinched back a little as Claudus dropped to one knee and presented his blood heir.

A small but genuine smile graced the four year old's face as he regarded his brother. The newborn cub yawned and blinked, then stretched, paws and feet kicking out. Enthralled by a version of himself that he had never seen, Lion-o crouched down to get a better view.

"He's so tiny," Tygra blurted out. "And look at that hair!" Sure enough, Claudus' son already sported spikey tufts of red on top of his head.

"Would you like to hold him, Tygra?" Lion-o gasped as him mother's voice called out from the grey mist.

"But… he's so squirmy." The cub backed away, looking uncertain.

"Well then, how about I hold you both? Claudus…"

The king moved away, taking the newborn cub with him. Then he came back and hefted the small tiger in his arms. Lion-o followed closely behind, the only brightness in the gloom surrounding his father and brother. A couple of steps later and his mother came into view. Her features were slightly blurry, but sharper than they were in Lion-o's own memories. But her scent, her wonderfully glorious warm scent… Lion-o felt a purr rise in his throat even as his eyes became blurry with tears.

In the queen's arm, already suckling from a breast, lay the newborn heir. Claudus set the adopted cub on the other side of her lap, to be supported by her other arm. He gazed lovingly down on them all.

Irene placed a kiss on Tygra's forehead. "My brave son, this would not have been possible without you. Thank you for your sacrifice."

"Irene…" Claudus warned even as Jaga came into view. The young Tygra just looked confused. Lion-o felt even more so. The scene faded and then brightened considerably.

The clacking sound of wooden swords striking each other rang out from below. Lion-o leaned out a window, only to regard a far older version of himself and Tygra participating in a training bout. The two cubs engaged then parted, circling each other. Lion-o felt a tug and for a desperate second he experienced a sensation of falling. Frantically his arms flailed, searching for a non-existent claw hold. Then it ended and he found himself next to the sparring circle, watching the match, although it was generous to call it such.

Clearly the superior fighter, the tiger wasn't really even trying to defeat his younger brother. The smaller prince, however, was taking the bout very seriously. A growl rumbled in his chest as he darted about, making wild thrusts and crazy slashes. Lion-o snorted softly as he observed himself launching yet another futile assault that Tygra easily deflected. The whole thing reminded him of WilyKat and WilyKit's 'ambush' of his brother at the campsite. Had that really only been a couple of days ago?

"Come on, Tygra," a familiar voice chided from the sidelines, "you're bigger, stronger. Use your advantages."

"Grune!" Lion-o's hand reached instantly for the Sword of Omens, only to find it absent. A full out growl vibrated his body as hands clenched into fists. "Filthy traitor! I'll take you down with my bare paws!" But to his surprise, he couldn't move from where he stood.

"General Grune, how goes the training?"

"Father." King Claudus looked younger than Lion-o remembered, far less worn than the horrible night where he had met his end.

Out in the sparring ring, Tygra finally decided to take things seriously. He side-stepped one of Lion-o's wild swings and watched as his brother's own momentum left him wide open and out of balance. His practice sword darted out at the same time as one of his feet, disarming the younger boy and tripping him up at the same time.

"See for yourself," Grune grunted as the victorious Tygra gave both elders a polite bow. He then turned, paw extended to aid his brother to his feet, but Lion-o scooted away and scrambled erect on his own. Snatching his practice sword, he whispered, just loud enough for Tygra to hear, a venomous "I hate you." And then he stalked away, leaving Tygra standing there with his paw still partially outstretched.

Chuckling awkwardly, the older cub just shrugged and looked back to the adults. "I guess practice is over…"

The image faded. Lion-o felt slightly sick to his stomach. "Come on, Tygra, that's not fair. I was what? Eight? You couldn't have possibly taken me seriously. Besides, you were _always _doing that to me: showing me up in front of Father, making everything look so damn easy. Like it was my fault you were older… Do you have any idea how hard it was to live in your shadow? Tygra?"

But then again, Lion-o knew he wasn't being fair either. Tygra had given up the sword, a weapon he loved, apparently just so his little brother wouldn't _have _to live in his swordsmanship shadow. A heavy weight settled in the lion's heart. The feeling of connectedness had faded somewhat, as if Tygra was here, but somehow slipping further away. Moving out of reach.

The surrounding darkness lightened to a pale grey. Before him a toddler sat on the floor, carefully stacking blocks. Everything else remained obscured; unidentifiable shadowy figures moved in the darker recesses. Lion-o crouched next to the cub. Even though the scene remained in black and white, he recognized the pattern of his brother's stripes. It was hard to believe that Tygra had ever been this small.

Voices came from the shadows, unrecognizable to the young king. Apparently intent on his work, the toddler pushed another block into place.

"Are the rumors true, Siberia? Is her Majesty no longer in a delicate way?"

A deeper, richer voice answered as a tall, slim feminine figure moved through the grey mist. Lion-o squinted, but the forms remained faceless silhouettes, even to his sharp eyes. "Word travels fast. Yes, I fear it is true. Despite my best efforts, the pregnancy refused to take. Irene and Claudus are devastated."

"Of course they are. This is the fifth time, yes? All of Thundera is beginning to wonder if we'll ever have an heir."

Enthralled by this conversation, Lion-o sat next to his diminutive brother. "Guess it's still a while before I'm born, eh Tygra?" The cub put another block on his leaning tower.

"Honestly," Siberia's voice continued, "it's a wonder she continues to try. King or no king, I think I would have told Claudus to go jump in the Sand Sea by now."

"Siberia!" the other woman's voice sounded falsely scandalized. "Fine words for you to say now that you have a cub of your own. I seem to remember a certain someone swear up and down that she'd never have children when we were growing up."

"I meant every word, Ocela. I never desired children. But Tyro wanted a cub so I provided him with one." A sigh as a china cup clinked against its saucer. "Frankly the child is a bit of a dullard and a pain. He doesn't take after me at all. It's only for Tyro's sake that I put up with him. I suppose that is the sacrifice I make for falling in love with a soldier."

"Siberia…"

On the floor, the young Tygra's paw hesitated just a second before reaching for another block. His head was down, but his paw shook.

"Hey!" Lion-o sprang to his feet. "Hey, he can _hear _you!" Shocked and angered that any mother would speak that way about her own son, Lion-o moved towards the shadowy shapes. But the scene he walked into was completely different. And totally familiar.

Tygra stalked into his workroom, hackles already raised. "Now is not the time to be playing with junk; people think you're crazy enough as it is."

"It's not junk; it's technology. And I don't care what they think."

Lion-o winced. The technology argument. It wasn't the first time the brothers had crossed verbal swords on Lion-o's particular beliefs, but it would be the last. The coming night would prove him right once and for all.

"When are you going to grow up?"

"When I do, I hope I'm _nothing_ like you…"

The scene faded into darkness. This time it stuck around stubbornly. Lion-o reached out a tentative paw, as if he could somehow reach his brother that way. Then he let it drop. They were connected through the Sword of Omens, but still worlds apart.

Voices flitted through the unyielding darkness, starting as murmurs, but slowly becoming recognizable. A scent filled the air: the smell of herbs and old parchment. Although shrouded in darkness, Lion-o knew exactly where he was: Jaga's study.

"The seal is still intact, Your Majesty. His memories are still secured."

"But these nightmares, Jaga. Surely it cannot be natural for a cub to dream of blood."

"These things are not perfect, sire. The memories are locked away, but the residual effects remain. I suspect young Tygra sees Queen Irene's deteriorating health and the stress of it triggers his flashbacks. It should pass in time."

"_Lion-o…"_

Claudus sighed. "We've been trying so hard to hide it from them. Do you think Lion-o has noticed as well?"

"I believe he suspects something is wrong, but he is young. Tygra has been distracting him admirably."

"_Lion-o!"_

"Protecting him as he has from the beginning. I did the right thing, making him my son. But I'm beginning to wonder if sealing his memory…"

"Lion-o!"

"Huh?" The young king blinked, his vision blurry. Gradually, the gold and tawny bleariness resolved itself into Cheetara. She regarded him with concern.

"Lion-o, are you back? Can you hear me?"

"What? Why? Why did you bring me out? There was something important. Father and Jaga…"

The cleric shook him. "You got lost. And he's gotten worse."

Lion-o blinked and then shifted his gaze down to his brother. Tygra's chest rose and fell in rapid little bunny breaths, each puff rasping and rattling is way out of his body. He looked… small. As if he had shrunk somehow while they had been linked.

"Lion-o, we have to move from here. The lizards and Mumm-ra know where we are; we need to put some distance between ourselves and this place. Panthro has the tank running and knows a location where we can hide for a while."

"Is it near a town? One with a healer?"

"No… from what he's described, it's pretty much a barren, rocky wasteland."

"Whiskers."

_**TBC…**_

**A/N: **Hope that wasn't too confusing for anyone. Don't worry; all questions will be answered… eventually. I hope so, anyways. Thanks for reading!


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six:**

Lion-o winced as another jolt shook the Thunder Tank. Never a smooth, comfortable ride even under the best of circumstances, now it seemed as if Panthro was deliberately hitting every bump on the road. Of course, deep down Lion-o knew that wasn't true. The grizzled general was just as concerned about his fragile passenger as everyone else, but still…

The young lion's teeth clenched together as another bump jostled his unconscious brother. One of Tygra's paws shook loose of its blanket cocoon; Lion-o took it gently in his with every intention of tucking it back in. But he paused, squeezing it softly, wishing with all his heart that Tygra would squeeze back, give him some sort of sign that he was still there. A moment or two passed with no responce and Lion-o's heart sank with disappointment.

Watching Mumm-ra kill his father, watching as Claudus' body tumbled from the heights of Challenge Tower, had been the hardest, most painful moment of Lion-o's short life. Until now. His heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice; every bloody cough Tygra made, every struggling intake of breath he took, tightened the clamp just a little bit more.

His father had died so swiftly – one moment he had been there, the next he was gone. It had been devastatingly painful. But this… this was a different sort of torture. Tygra could die now, or three days from now. No one seemed to know. And the waiting and watching, the overwhelming sense of helplessness, it ate at Lion-o, driving him mad.

He tucked Tygra's unresponsive paw back under the covers, resting his own on his brother's feverish brow for just a moment. Then, almost as if it had a mind of its own, he watched as his hand clenched into a fist. Snarling, he drove it into the metal side of the tank, the resounding echo reverberating louder than the low-pitched hum of the Thunder Tank's engines. Refusing to acknowledge the pain, Lion-o slumped back against the vibrating wall of the small storage room they were using as Tygra's sickroom. Feeling sick and exhausted, the lion's eyes slid shut.

"Lion-o, is everything alright?" Summoned by the noise, Cheetara entered the room. She crouched on the floor next to Tygra, slim hands moving quickly as she felt his forehead and checked his pulse. Reaching into a bucket of red-tinged, cool water, she produced a cloth and started removing a fresh trickle of blood that had emerged from Tygra's nose.

Lion-o stared, feeling an uprising of guilt that he hadn't noticed the flow. The guilt fed his frustration at the circumstances; his pinched heart twisted in his chest. A maelstrom of dark emotions whirled within him. He wanted to laugh at her, scream at her: what could possibly be _alright _about this situation? Instead he forced himself to swallow all the anger back, allowing one shoulder to rise and fall in an apathetic gesture.

Not trusting his words to be free of sarcasm, Lion-o remained silent as Cheetara went through the motions of tending to her patient. They both knew there was little to be done. The strong scent of antiseptic rose in the air as the cleric moved the blanket to check the bandages wrapping Tygra's chest and arms.

"Looks like most of the bleeding has stopped," she murmured, tucking the blanket back around Tygra's limp form.

Out of nowhere, the image of the black door flashed into Lion-o's mind, followed by a cascade of red. Blood. That was what his father and Jaga had been talking about too. Something about Tygra dreaming of blood, something about sealing his memory…

"Lion-o, you're hurting me."

The current king blinked and he was back in the grey-walled storage room, one of his paws clenched firmly around Cheetara's slim wrist as the cleric's hand reached for Tygra's face. A low-toned growl filled the cramped room; with a start Lion-o realized it was coming from him.

Instantly he released her, stammering a sheepish apology as he rubbed the back of his head. She forgave him with a small smile, settling down on the floor next to Tygra's head.

"Want to talk about it?"

Lion-o's mouth opened and he took a breath, but then it closed as he exhaled through his nose. The words were like Tygra's memories, jumbled and confused; he didn't know where to start.

Cheetara sat patiently, waiting while her king tried to organize his thoughts. When it became obvious that Lion-o was going to remain silent, she offered up her own.

"It was very brave, what you did back there, entering his mind to try to save him."

"But I failed. I couldn't find him at all. His memories were so vivid… I just ended up sightseeing. Some King… some brother… I'm pathetic."

"Lion-o, even trained clerics can have issues forming a productive mind-link, especially when the one they are trying to reach is…" her words trailed off. She didn't feel the need to remind Lion-o how close to the edge of death his brother lurked.

"I want to try again. As soon as the Thunder Tank stops. No. Now. I want to do it now. Is there any reason I can't do it now?"

"Lion-o, Lion-o, listen to me. What you did was brave and admirable, but I can't let you try again. Tygra is… he's at the point where I doubt a healing trance will be enough to save him."

She expected tears. But Lion-o's sharp blue eyes remained dry as he stared as her. Hard and cold, burning with intensity, they reminded her of the newly crowned king in front of his father's funeral pyre.

"You _don't_ know Tygra. He's strong and stubborn. And talented at everything he tries. He can make it; I _know_ he can. All he needs is a little help and someone to believe in him. You did say that his mother was a powerful healer."

"I also mentioned that Tygra had no talent for the clerical arts." Cheetara sighed. "There's no talking you out of this, is there?"

"No. All my life he's been there for me. Even when we disagreed or didn't get along, I knew he had my back. I won't let him go without a fight."

The cleric smiled affectionately at her king. "Very well. But not until the vehicle stops. It's too bumpy right now. When the tank stops we'll give it one final try."

Snarf entered the room. His wide yellow eyes turned squinty as he crinkled his nose against the conflicting scents in the room. He padded cautiously to his master, who scooped the pet up and deposited him in his lap. Lion-o absently stroked the feline's head. The trio spent time in companionable silence as the tank rumbled on. Then Lion-o stirred.

"Cheetara… what do you know about memory seals?"

The cleric's well-manicured brows rose. "It's a powerful, forbidden art. Memory seals are one of the skills only the head cleric knows. As the name suggests, the art is used to seal a person's memory to varying degrees. In ancient times it was thought that by eliminating the memory of a tragedy from a cat's life, it aided the cat's recovery. But that theory has long since been discarded. As my mentor often said, 'A history forgotten is oft repeated'." Cheetara cocked her head to one side. "Why do you ask?"

Lion-o ignored the question. His hand continued to steadily stroke Snarf; his eyes were focused on his brother. Long moments passed as he continued to think. "What about Tygra's mother? What can you tell me about her?"

"Only what the annals recorded. Tygra's mom was a cleric named Siberia. She was a skillful healer, so much so that she was assigned to the queen. Your mother had some… medical difficulties."

"She had problems conceiving an heir."

Cheetara again looked surprised. She shrugged. "Amongst other things, yes. Siberia died when Tygra was only four. The annals record that she grew ill and passed away very shortly after being notified of her beloved husband's death."

"Tyro."

"Yes. Lion-o, what did you see in there?"

"So then, how did Tyro die?"

"There was a catapult accident," Panthro's deep rumble answered, causing both Lion-o and Snarf to jump. Cheetara merely greeted the grizzled veteran with a smile. Unlike the others, she had noticed when the omnipresent hum of the Thunder Tank had come to a stop.

"I was there," the older cat continued. "We had been dispatched to the western quadrant to suppress a band of marauding lizards. Kitten's play, or so we thought. Tyro was a good, solid soldier. Strong, skilled, likable, he would have risen far in the ranks. But the lizards had holed up in an old abandoned fort. It would have been a bloody fight, storming the place and getting them out. So Claudus ordered the catapults set up."

"My father was there?"

"Until you were born, kid, he led almost every campaign. You shoulda heard Grune despair over ever being named general." Panthro's easy grin sobered instantly after uttering the tainted name. He cleared his throat. "Anyways, one of the catapults had a structural defect. Tyro was working on it when it collapsed on him. The tragedy would have been worse, but he managed to shove the other cats out of the way. A cleric took the news back to the castle. By the time we returned home, Siberia was already gone. In honor of his parents' service to the crown, Claudus adopted their cub."

All three cats stared silently at Tygra, observing an unconscious, belated moment of silence for his loss. Then Lion-o took a deep breath. His unwavering blue eyes locked with Cheetara's cinnamon orbs. "All right. The tank has stopped. Let's do it now."

The cleric hesitated for a moment before shaking her head. "Lion-o, come outside for a little bit. You need to clear your head of Tygra's memories. In order to find his spirit, you need to focus on who he is, not who he was or who you perceive him to be. Understand?"

For a moment, kingly defiance flared behind his azure eyes. Then he capitulated. "Fine. I'll go outside, but just for a minute. Snarf, you stay here."

The pet climbed off of Lion-o's lap. He eyed Tygra's prone form and mewed piteously before curling up next to the prince's makeshift bed.

The trio of ThunderCats made their way out of the cramped tank. Lion-o had to admit, silently, that the fresh air coming down the exit hatch soothed his senses. Funny how one did not notice the stale quality of the Thunder Tank's air until exposed to the outside. His mind turned guiltily to his brother, trapped within the stagnant confines of the vehicle as everyone left him behind.

What if he stopped breathing? What if he somehow knew he had been left alone? Lion-o's feet slowed to a halt. He half turned back, staring towards the storage room. It seemed so wrong. If their positions were reversed, would Tygra leave him, even for a second?

"Lion-o, come out. You have to see this."

The young king frowned; a retort rose like bile and burned the back of his lips. He repressed it with an effort. Cheetara, he knew, was only trying to help and furthermore, she was usually right about these kinds of things. If she believed clearing his head would help him in a renewed effort to find Tygra's spirit, then he had no choice but to trust in her judgment.

Reluctantly, he turned to follow the sound of her voice. The cleric was wrong about one thing though. In order to understand the present day Tygra, Lion-o needed to make sense of his past. The same reasoning that had them searching for the Book of Omens applied here as well. And there was definitely something… _off_ about some of Tygra's memories. The King of the ThunderCats wasn't sure what it was, but he was determined to find out…

Lion-o emerged from the grey confines of the vehicle and stared. Jagged white towers of stone surrounded them, jutting up into the sky like the well gnawed bones of some giant beast. As a sharp backdrop, the setting sun had cast the western sky in a brilliant crimson, the cooler blues and purples of the night only just beginning to lap at the edges of the retreating light.

For a moment they all stood and took it in. Then WilyKit tweaked her brother's tail and they were off to explore. Being confined all day, they had both built up an excess of kittenish energy. A tiny part of Lion-o watched them enviously. This was the sort of place he used to dream of as a cub. Wild and foreign, filled with nooks and crevasses where who knew what could be found. But he shook off the feeling and turned to Panthro.

Before he could inquire, Panthro rumbled quietly, "The limestone peaks of Sarin-Ga. Grune and I searched this area for months, looking for the Book. Nearly broke my neck, trying to catch one of the cliff jumpers to eat." The elder cat pointed at a four-legged, hoofed creature, about twice the size of Snarf. It observed them from the safe distance of two hundred feet up, perched on an outcropping no bigger than the Eye of Thundera. Then with a snort, it bounded away, jumping impossible distances diagonally up the imposing peak. Panthro gave a half-smile. "Fortunately, I'm hard to kill."

The sky had turned a deeper crimson, even as the night made headway against the retreating sun. The barren white peaks seemed to soak up the color, becoming stained red, once again reminding Lion-o of blood. He winced, partially turning back to the tank.

Cheetara, however, apparently found different inspiration in the scene. She smiled, her words halting Lion-o in his tracks. "His whip is a cleric's weapon, you know." She gestured towards the reddish appearing towers. "The color reminded me of the crystals attached to the whip's end. Their purpose is to focus a cleric's energy, help create the illusion of invisibility."

"The first time he used it, he split open his chin. I laughed," Lion-o admitted quietly. "I was angry at him for quitting the sword. I thought he was cheating me out of the chance to best him one day. Now I know he did it _for_ me, so I wouldn't get frustrated and give up, so I could learn at my own pace."

The King of the ThunderCats' right paw fondled the hilt of his famous sword. "It took him forever to master that whip, and longer still to use the invisibility crystals. He cut himself many times. But he never gave up. He's stubborn that way. He always made everything seem so easy, but I bet it wasn't. Tygra loved swordsmanship, but he gave it up. He gave it up for me. That's the kind of brother he is."

Lion-o felt a warmth settle on his shoulder. He looked up into Cheetara's kind eyes. The cleric smiled. "It may have taken time, but he _did _master it: a cleric's weapon. That means he can master other cleric skills as well. Let's go get your brother back, Lion-o."

The young king returned the cheetah's smile. "Yeah."

**TBC...**

** A/N: **Sort of a filler-ish chapter, but it had to be done. We'll get back into the nitty-gritty next time. Til then, thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven:**

"Lion-o." _"Lion-o." _"Lion-o."

Tygras of different ages called out his name, each putting a different inflection of the word.

"Lion-o, I'm sorry", rasped the modern day tiger. "I'm sorry."

The young king doggedly ignored the calls. He paid no attention to the flashes of memory that popped up here and there. They were all grey-tinged and faded, blurry and unclear. Proof that Tygra didn't have long. Lion-o quickened his pace. He knew, almost instinctively, where he had to go; where the answers always were: with Jaga.

Navigating the castle in Tygra's dwindling mind was a challenge of and in itself. The hallways twisted and turned unexpectedly, ending in dead ends or in muddy memories. Lion-o plunged through an image of himself and Tygra sharing a pilfered treat, another of their angry teenage faces inches apart as they screamed at each other. He moved on without a backwards glance, even as his heart winced at the hateful words being exchanged.

The castle itself was beginning to degrade. No longer resembling the sprawling, pristine structure of his youth, now it more closely matched the ruins the invading lizards had left behind. Still Lion-o continued forward. He didn't know for sure where his destination lied, so he was counting on finding it by covering as much ground as he could in the shortest amount of time possible.

Suddenly he caught the faint but unmistakable scent of herbs and parchment. Following his nose, Lion-o descended a flight of non-existent stairs and plunged through a blackened hallway at a determined trot. The air felt still and unnaturally cold.

_Hurry, hurry, _the mantra repeated over and over in his head as the young lion moved into a full out run.

Left, left, then right. The scent got stronger. He skidded to a halt and regarded his destination. The black door. The trail of Jaga's scent ended here. Despite the current condition of Tygra's mind, the large, creepy door remained in vivid detail; every carved link of chain, every symbol and claw mark standing out in sharp relief.

"Jaga?" Lion-o called out. "Jaga, come out! I need you. _Tygra_ needs you. Please!"

Like a true magician the old jaguar appeared, suddenly and abruptly, one second absent, the other there. His weathered hands rested on his staff as he regarded with curiosity the lion before him. He raised his long, hairy eyebrows.

"As I've been summoned, so I have appeared. Greetings Prince Lion-o. No. I see much time has passed. Greetings, Lion-o, Lord of the ThunderCats. What may this guardian specter do for you?"

Relief flooding through him, the younger son of Claudus grinned. Then he sobered. Swiftly he explained the situation as the wizard silently listened.

"…So we need to put him into a healer's trance. But his mind's a mess and he's fading fast."

"I did notice a change in the décor. But what brought you _here_?"

"Cheetara said only the _head_ cleric can make a memory seal. So this door is your work." Lion-o walked up to it and spread his paw wide, just barely able to make it match up with the scars. "And these claw marks, they're Tygra's."

"Hm. An unusually stubborn cat, your brother. Most cats will forget a seal in time, but he continues to come here and poke at it every now and then. That is why I was left to guard the door."

"I want you to open it."

"Ah. You believe that if the seal is removed, the spirit of your brother will come here to find out what is behind the door."

"I know Tygra."

"Perhaps. But know this, Lord Lion-o; the seal once removed can never be replaced. It weighed heavily on your father, placing this within his son, but he judged it best for Tygra's sanity. Would you so easily tear down what your father built, knowing that the damage caused might never be fixed?"

"Jaga, he's going to die. Whatever lies behind this door cannot be worse than that."

The cleric's shade gave a sad smile. "Are you so certain?" But he moved to the door. "Prepare yourself, Your Majesty. Memories suppressed become exponentially stronger. You will have but one chance to secure your brother's spirit. Become overwhelmed by what lies within and you might forever miss it."

Lion-o's eyes hardened. He set his feet, as if he was preparing for battle. Nodding at the cleric, he declared himself ready. 'Jaga' hefted his staff. With a speed and strength that belied his age, the wizard pounded on the black door three times. The thuds echoed eerily down the hall. Then, silence.

Just as Lion-o was about to demand to know what went wrong, he heard a hissing noise. It started softly, slowly, then building in tempo and volume. The ancient Thunderian symbols began to flare red before snuffing out. Faster and faster they burnt out of existence. As they disappeared, the carved chains began to move. Rattling and clinking, as if they were metal, the links withdrew from the door. The cacophony built to a crescendo, then the last chain fell apart, crashing into individual links upon the floor at the wizard's feet.

Lion-o held his breath as Jaga placed a paw upon the door. "Behold the truth," the old cleric uttered solemnly as he pushed on the door.

A familiar scent suddenly filled Lion-o's nose. Standing no more than two feet away, his brother stared at the opening door. And it was _him_. The right age, the right aura...

"Tygra!" Desperately Lion-o reached out to grab him.

And Jaga shoved the door wide open.

* * *

><p>Persistent knocking stirred the cub to wakefulness. Lying in bed, he could hear his mother's perturbed growl through the wall that divided their bedrooms. He shrank into a tight ball, anxiety clawing at his insides. She had been on edge for days, ever since his father had left on campaign. Every twitch Tygra made seemed to drive her to irritated distraction. No matter how still and quiet he tried to be, it was never enough. And his sore backside bore witness to her fury.<p>

He kept utterly still as her growl became a fierce snarl. He prayed the knocker would go away. Didn't they know how hard his mother worked; how tired she was after tending the queen all day?

Tygra didn't really understand it, but it had something to do with the fact that the queen had gained a lot of weight over the last six months. The whole castle seemed on edge, buzzing and humming like a hive of bees about an heir. The young tiger cub wouldn't have cared about any of that, except that as the queen got fatter and the castle got louder, his mother got shorter and shorter of temper.

The knocker pounded harder. "News from the front!" he called through the door.

Tygra let out a soft whimper as his mother threw her bedroom door open. He squeezed his eyes shut. He wouldn't move, he wouldn't breathe, he wasn't awake so she couldn't get mad.

Muffled voices, mostly the male cat's, came from the living room. His mother said very little, only at the end. "Get out," she hissed, and Tygra knew, _knew _nothing good would come from this.

He remained frozen, a ball of fearfulness beneath the covers, listening desperately as his mother paced back and forth, back and forth. For a moment, he thought he heard her cry, but that was impossible. His mother never cried. Only worthless cats like him shed tears, as if leaking water from his eyes would cure anything.

The pacing ceased and the young cub felt his heart escape his chest to pound uncomfortably in his throat. This was probably his fault. Things were always his fault because he was slow and clumsy and too restless to be a smart, clever cleric like his mom.

Oh, how he wished that his father were here. Things were always better when Tyro was around. His mother would hum and pat him on the head every so often and even make full course dinners. She'd watch with love and approval as the large warrior handed his son a wooden blade and guided him through the motions of using it.

"Look at how clever our son is, Siberia!" the big cat would exclaim as Tygra moved through the simple thrust and slash motions his father had taught him. His mother would smile and agree… but only for as long as Tyro was around. When his father left she'd become irritated again, snatching the short sword away while muttering that she didn't have time to put up with his foolishness.

The pacing stopped. Tygra attempted to swallow past his quivering heart, but it hurt going down. He couldn't stand this, this _waiting._

'Better to face your fears like a cat, son,' his father had told him once. So slowly, ever so slowly, he unwrapped his tense body from its curled up form. He listened to the silence for a moment. Cautiously one bare foot met the cold floor of his bedroom, soon joined by its twin.

The cub's body shook, but he forced it to tip-toe to the door. Slowly he eased it open just a crack, light flooding into his darkened room. He pressed his eye to the slit he had made, and then gasped at the sight beyond. His mother sat crumpled to the floor, knees drawn up and shoulders shaking as she silently sobbed. Tygra couldn't help himself; he let the door open fully and exited his room, moving to his mother's side.

"Mommy? Mom? What is it? What's wrong?"

One ice-blue eye emerged from the cocoon of arms and then the entire head rose. Normally strikingly beautiful, Siberia's white fur stood out in ungroomed tufts. Her winter colored eyes widened and hardened as she regarded her orange cub.

"Oh yes. Yes, the _cub._ I had almost forgotten. Look at him, Tyro. Look at your son! I never wanted a cub; I never wanted this burden. But I gave him to you. Now you've left me alone; alone with this, this untalented _thing!"_

Tygra shrank back as his mother rose in one swift, jerky movement. His wide eyes darted about, searching for his father. His mother was talking to him, right? So where was Tyro?

"Look at him!" Siberia gestured disdainfully at the cowering four year old. "How can I bare to _look _at him day after day? He looks just like _you_! How can I look at him knowing that you're… that you're…"

She resumed pacing, paws covering her eyes. Tygra bit his lip, then straightened his cringing posture, one paw outstretched towards his distraught mom. As if she could sense it coming, she slapped it away.

"Don't you touch me! I never wanted you! I never wanted you! I only wanted Tyro. Only him. I was so happy with him. So why? Why did he need something more?" Her face hardened, fangs protruding from behind curled lips. Tygra froze in fear at the sight. Then all at once his mother composed herself. She straightened, blue eyes staring off into the distance.

"This is all Claudus' fault," she stated softly, as if deciding they would have roast for dinner. "And after all I've done for Irene too. Yes. I see what needs to be done."

Calmly she strode into her husband's small den. Tygra was about to creep after her when a loud crash startled him into motionlessness. One after another, the drawers in Tyro's cabinet and desk were jerked free from their homes and emptied on the floor. Then silence. Tygra summoned up all his courage to move towards the entrance to the den, but his mother emerged first, a large but slim dagger in her paw. One side of her mouth twisted up into a pseudo-smile as she fingered the sharp edge, the other side remained frozen into a hard line.

Her eyes alighted on her petrified son and she darted forward and snatched up his paw. "Come on," she smiled coldly down at the cub, "we're going to pay a visit to the queen. First her and her precious unborn cub, then you, then me. I'll go last. And Tyro and I will be together again. Just the two of us. Forever this time."

Her paw tightened to the point of painfulness on Tygra's own, but he knew better than to complain or question. She tucked the dagger away and then pulled Tygra out the door. She moved swiftly, nearly jerking him off of his feet a couple of times as they traveled silently down the castle's halls.

This time of night, there were few other cats about and no one questioned the passing of the cleric and her son, even though they were both less than formally attired. With the queen only a couple of months from her due date and confined to her bed, they were used to Siberia's late night visits to the Royal Chambers. When the halls were empty, Siberia would mutter, just snatchlets audible to the young cub's ears.

"I'll show him… Kill my husband… foolish cat… damn soldier…"

When they rounded the corner to the queen's chambers, Siberia slowed to a more dignified pace. The two clerics standing guard outside the royal rooms stiffened minutely as she approached, then relaxed as they saw who neared. Like most on-duty clerics, they wore masks that hid both their identities and their expressions.

"Siberia," the one on the left greeted, "what brings you at this late…"

He never finished his sentence. Moving with the preternatural speed all clerics possessed, Tygra's mother's body became a blur. The two guards stood there, long red smiles appearing on their necks, dead before they even realized they were under attack. The blood spray came a second later, almost an afterthought. The red mist settled on Siberia's white fur and on Tygra's orange coat.

The cub stood in frozen horror. The powerful odor of blood, urine and feces made him want to gag, but he couldn't rouse even that much response. He stared at the clerics, one moment alive and moving, the next sliding in slow motion down the blood stained wall. Stared at his mother, the stranger who was cleaning her knife on the hem of her robe with a slight smile on her face. And back again to the bodies, as if the cause and effect would not register in his mind.

The simple things: blinking, swallowing, breathing, became extremely difficult. He opened his mouth, wanting to express himself, wanting to ask his mother 'why?' But all that came out was an inarticulate noise.

The large tiger frowned down at him. "Useless," she muttered, before taking his paw and forcibly tugging him past the bodies and into the chamber they once guarded. Tygra's feet refused to budge and she ended up dragging him through the door, his head swiveling to keep his eyes on the slumped clerics.

She released him once inside, pulling the door shut behind her. "You stay here," she ordered, and left him without looking back as she made her way across the darkened room towards the doorway on the right.

Tygra did as told; movement, like thought, seemed an impossible task. A sliver of light spilled into the room, attracting his attention. The door to the hallway had caught on one of the dead cleric's arms. His eyes widened as the light glinted off something in the cat's paw.

Across the room, Siberia entered the royal bedchamber. Tygra tried to call out to her, but all he could manage was an embarrassing 'mew'. Light flared into existence from the doorway of the bedroom. He could hear the queen's sleepy, questioning voice and his mother's terse, intense response.

The cub shook, trembling so hard that his teeth rattled. He kept them tightly clenched to prevent another whimper from escaping. He wished his father was here; Tyro would know what to do. But deep down, he knew the soldier would not come.

"_How long has he been like this?"_

"_Since _then_, Your Majesty."_

To her credit, the queen's voice, although alarmed, never rose into the realm of panic. Siberia began ranting and pacing, her footfalls sounding hard and erratic as she crisscrossed the floor. Tygra's small paw reached out for that of the dead cleric.

"_He hasn't eaten or spoken to anyone. He barely sleeps. We've managed to force enough water down him to keep him hydrated, but if this continues…"_

"_His name is Tygra, right? Tygra? Can you hear me? No one is angry with you, son. In fact, you are a hero. _My_ hero."_

Everything seemed heavy. His body, so hard to move that each footstep forward seemed an impossible task. His head, the blood pounding so hard that it was difficult to see straight. The familiar object in his paw, so weighty that the tip hovered just a fraction about the tiled floor. He wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and sleep. Sleep until this nightmare went away and life became normal again. But something inside him would not allow surrender. So the four year old tottered, one trembling footstep at a time, towards the royal bedchamber.

"_Jaga, this is awful. Losing both Tyro and Siberia was tragedy enough, but to lose their son? Surely there must be something we can do…?"_

His mother laughed at him. She laughed as if she had never seen anything so funny. But the cub didn't move. His stance was right; Father had shown him.

Siberia sneered. It didn't matter, she decided, the actual order of their demise. She didn't bother to use her cleric's speed. Why would she, on such a useless cub and a female so pregnant that all she could do was waddle?

Parry and thrust. Parry and thrust.

Did you see, Daddy? Did you see, Mommy? I got it right that time! Did you see?

Are you proud of me, maybe just a little?

I love you, Mommy. I do. I'll keep practicing until I get it perfect. Until you see that I'm good at something. Until I'm not worthless anymore.

Parry and thrust.

And the world turned red…

The horrified scream tore the back of his throat raw. A twin roar echoed out from his right and only _that_, the sound of his brother's anguished cry brought Lion-o back into himself. Tygra stood shaking, examining his paws as if they were still coated with his mother's blood. Wild eyes roamed unfocused about his surroundings, while out of his mouth streamed an almost unintelligible torrent of words.

"No! No, I didn't mean to; I didn't mean to. Mom. _Mom_. Get up! I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

It was enough to wake Lion-o fully up. One chance and one chance only.

The castle shook; vibrating as if struck by a temblor. Fissures opened up in the floor and walls of the hallway, showing an empty grey void beyond. Lion-o almost fell as Tygra's inner world began to crumble, but regained his footing just in time to leap across a growing chasm. He grabbed his older brother; pulling him into a bear hug of an embrace. And screamed for Cheetara.

**TBC…**

**A/N: **Well, not the holliest and jolliest of chapters, but what can you do? In the spirit of the season, I decided to post it today, even though I shall not be back on-line until Tuesday. So review replies, which I try to be punctual with, shall be delayed until then. And, just so you know, Chapter Eight shall not be posted until after the first of the year.

Hope you have a Happy, Merry, and Joyful, whatever you celebrate! Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight:**

Tygra's spirit form trembled, shook like a leaf in a windstorm, and each spasm that wracked the tiger's body vibrated the castle in which they stood.

It was falling apart. Pieces and chunks breaking off, dissolving into nothingness, gobbled up by the surrounding grey void which was increasing in size with every heartbeat.

Lion-o held on even as Tygra shook. He felt that if he let go, altered his bear hug even for an instant, his brother would simply dissolve like their surroundings.

The other cat's breathing had become raspy and erratic, much like what his physical body was doing. "The blood," he managed to gurgle out. "The blood."

"_Cheetara!"_ Lion-o roared, combining his frantic calls with soothing words. "It's okay. Shush, shush. Don't think about it." _"Cheetara!"_

The blond cleric appeared in a flash of light, looking around in horror at the devastation surrounding them. "Lion-o, what did you…? Never mind, we've got to go; _now!"_

"What? No! Fix him! Put him in a healing trance, like you said."

"His mind is falling apart. His body is dying. I can't work with this. We have to go!"

"No! You said that if I found his spirit, you could do it. Well, I found it. It took removing his memory seal, but I found it. Now fix him!"

Cheetara stared at her king incredulously for a moment. Her voice rose up an octave with each exasperated sentence. "Tygra has a memory seal? You _removed_ it? What could possibly make you think that reliving his most painful memory would be conductive to a _healing_ trance?"

"Children, if I may interject?"

"Jaga?" Cheetara's already wide eyes widened further as she regarded the form of her mentor. Then they narrowed. "No, you're not…"

"Just a specter, I'm afraid. Guardian of this door," the old wizard gestured towards the open black door. Another tremor shook the castle; the door's lower hinge popped and it let out a groan as it tilted sideways. Jaga continued on unperturbed. "But I have occupied this mind for many years." He nodded to Lion-o. "Release him."

"But I can't! If I do, he'll…"

"Have faith, young king."

Lion-o grimaced. He drew back from his brother, holding him at arm's length. Tygra's form was faded and indistinct, transparent in places. His place was twisted in anguish, his brown eyes unseeing; his mouth whispering the words over and over, "I killed her. I killed her."

"Release him," Jaga encouraged.

Averting his eyes, Lion-o did just that. In a blur of motion, Jaga stepped into his place, slapping the bare palm of his right hand against the forehead of the faded Tygra's form.

"You have suffered much and sacrificed more, young prince. I fear these issues, which perhaps should have been resolved long ago, will now haunt you for some time. But what is important now is to let your mind _rest._ Find the calm in the eye of the storm and embrace it. Let your turbulent thoughts flow around you, while you remain still and at peace…"

Tygra's spirit began to solidify, even as his brown eyes rolled backwards into his head. The few remaining solid sections of the castle slowly stopped crumbling.

"That's right," Jaga encouraged as his other paw came up to find a home against Tygra's temple. With both paws supporting the lax tiger's head, the cleric pressed his forehead against Tygra's. "Let the healing energies flow!"

A pinpoint of brilliant white light emerged from where the two cats' heads touched. Lion-o and Cheetara shielded their eyes as the beam grew larger and larger. Both Jaga and Tygra were soon consumed by the light; the cleric's voice whispering back, "Now _go_."

Wasting no time, Cheetara grabbed Lion-o's paw and _pulled_, bringing them both back into their physical bodies. Unlike his first return, Lion-o found this one a lot more disturbing. His head throbbed and his vision blackened around the edges as a high pitched whine filled his ears. The darkness nearly consumed his sight entirely, but just before the last of his light faded, it began to slowly recede. He literally felt like someone had thrown him, hard, except his body was at ease, his paw still resting on top of his brother's which was loosely clasped about the hilt of the Sword of Omens. Cheetara's paw rested atop of his own, and he was briefly fascinated by the amount of warmth he felt radiating off her.

Blinking his heavy eyes to clear his vision, he beheld the strangest sight. WilyKit sobbed inconsolably as the teary eyed WilyKat held her shaking body. Panthro leaned in the entranceway, one paw hiding his eyes as he shook his head and muttered, "Damn fool kids. Should have done it myself. Damn it."

Lion-o met Cheetara's puzzled gaze and then cleared his throat. "Uh, guys? What's up?"

"L…Lion-o!" Kit flung herself at the seated lion, nearly bowling him over.

WilyKat became all grins, "See, sis, I _told_ you they'd be fine!"

Panthro scrubbed his eyes and straightened. "I wasn't crying," he asserted. "I had something in my eye!"

"Yeah, right."

"We all know you're just a big softy."

The littermates shared a grin and began to chant, "Panthro's a softy, Panthro's a softy!"

Then the general straightened to stand at his full height, his muscular, scarred frame taking up the entire doorway. "_Who's_ a softy?" he growled menacingly.

WilyKat flinched and took shelter behind Cheetara while his sister buried her head into Lion-o's shoulder.

"Panthro, stop scaring the kittens," the young king ordered with a frown, completely missing 'Kat pulling a face at the general from behind Cheetara's back.

'Kit pushed away from him. "But _you're_ the mean one, Lion-o. You scared us most of all."

"Yeah," her brother chimed in. "You all stopped breathing."

"We did?" Lion-o looked to the elder cat for confirmation. Panthro gave a solemn nod. With a sharp intake of air, Lion-o's gaze switched to the cleric. She was way ahead of him, her fingers feeling Tygra's throat for a pulse. Then she laid her head down on his chest. Finally she touched the top of his forehead with the tips of her fingers, her eyes closed in concentration.

Settling back, Cheetara gave her leader a reassuring smile. "Jaga did it. He's in a healing trance. We'll know in a day's passing whether or not it was in time to save his body. At this point, however, I'm cautiously optimistic. But from what I saw of his mind, his physical health might not be what we need to worry about."

The cleric raised a questioning brow at her seated king, who gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head, eyes flickering to the youngest members of their group before darting back to meet her own. She gave a very slight nod to indicate she understood.

"So Tygra's going to be okay?" Kit asked hopefully.

"Yes," Lion-o answered firmly. "Yes he is."

* * *

><p>After the cats had eaten and the kittens had retired for the night, Lion-o shared what he had seen behind Tygra's memory seal. Initially, the words came slowly, reluctantly. It felt almost like a betrayal, sharing Tygra's deepest, darkest memory with others. But as he continued, Lion-o felt a weight lifting from his chest. In truth he didn't really know how to handle the knowledge he had gained or the raw emotions he had experienced while living the memory through Tygra's eyes.<p>

It was almost surreal, a nightmare one couldn't imagine until one experienced it, kind of like the death of his father and the fall of Thundera. There were still mornings when Lion-o woke up, half expecting to be in his comfortable bed in the castle instead of sleeping in the stuffy Thunder Tank or outside in the dirt. But reality always shattered that false hazy morning dream, and now Tygra would have to live with the infinite reality that he had killed his own mother.

Panthro and Cheetara both absorbed the story quietly, each digesting it in their own way. As the silence continued, Lion-o felt compelled to defend his brother's actions.

"She deserved it. She was going to kill my mom and me, then Tygra, then herself. She had completely snapped and I don't think she was all that nice to begin with."

"Oh, Lion-o, no one is blaming Tygra for what he did. I'm just shocked that it was covered up so well. Even the Cleric Annals, which are supposed to accurately record Thunderian history, said nothing about any of this. Altering records, using a memory seal… I can't believe my mentor went so far."

"Humph," Panthro snorted. "You two are still very young. Back then, we were constantly defending our borders against the other animals. Without an heir, Claudus' rule was seen as weak by some factions amongst the cats. The clerics are supposed to be the crown's ultimate protectors. Allowing it to get out that one of their ranks, a prominent member no less, had been a certifiable nut job wouldn't have done much for Claudus' reign. Jaga did what he had to, what any loyal soldier would have done."

The large cat shifted position. "It all makes sense now. I always thought it was strange, the King and Queen adopting a four year old when their own long awaited cub was well on his way. At the time, everyone passed it off as guilt over Tyro's death and in honor of Siberia's service, but Claudus was never the type of cat to be shackled by doubt or regrets. He lived his life full out, and expected those who served under him to do the same." Panthro trailed off, a fond smile gracing his grizzled face.

"It must have been hard on Tygra, not being able to remember his past, not knowing why he was chosen to be the King of Thundera's eldest son." Cheetara's cinnamon eyes bore into Lion-o from across the campfire. "I'm sure he put a lot of pressure on himself, trying to prove worthy of the honor."

Lion-o stared at the flickering light of the fire, unable to meet her gaze. He knew she was probably right. As cubs, they had been so close – Tygra had seemed almost magical with his ability to do all sorts of things the junior cat couldn't.

But as they got older… as Lion-o began to feel the pressure of being 'heir', that's when things began to change. His admiration swiftly turned to resentment; the always perfect Prince Tygra had a long and deep shadow and Lion-o hated the inevitable comparisons between them, comparisons in which he felt doomed to fall short. It was strange to think that perhaps Tygra had felt trapped by their relationship too.

Cheetara's dulcet tones stirred Lion-o from his thoughts. "I'm concerned that, even if he recovers physically, Tygra might have permanent mental or emotions damage from the shock of the seal being removed."

Blue eyes flickered upwards, and then darted back to the dancing flames.

Panthro snorted. "Eh, the kid should be made of tougher stuff than that. He'll just have to deal with it and move on." Then, in a far quieter, but somehow harder voice he muttered, "We all have to deal with personal scars." The grizzled veteran's paw touched the large scar on his chest as he spoke, his eyes distant.

Red brows drawing down, Lion-o steepled his fingers in front of his face. The last image he had of his brother, before Jaga's intervention, had been one of pure anguish. The pain of his mother's acts; the horror of knowing her blood stained his paws; these were not things a cat, _any_ cat, could just shrug off. Lion-o had a strong suspicion that Cheetara was right in her assessment of the situation, and the idea that his strong, brave, and sarcastic but loyal brother would wake up a different cat terrified him.

Lion-o cleared his throat and raised his gaze, taking in that of his followers. "We treat him exactly as we did before. No one is to talk about this with him, unless he initiates the conversation. That's an order."

Although he spoke the words to both cats, he really meant them for Cheetara alone. Panthro, he couldn't imagine striking up a heart to heart with, well, anyone, but the cleric had mothering tendencies. And while Lion-o often appreciated her patience and kindness, he feared Tygra would misinterpret them as pity. His brother would hate that, Lion-o was sure.

He rose and turned back to the tank, stomach churning with anxiety. The healing trance would last a while, Cheetara had said, and then they would know what kind of damage had truly been done.

* * *

><p>"Oooh, it's <em>sooo<em> soft," WilyKit exclaimed as she stroked the newly grown hair on Tygra's chest.

"Oooh," WilyKat mocked in a falsetto tone, "WilyKit _luvs _Tygra."

"I do _not_!"

"Hey!" Lion-o interrupted just as Cheetara burst into the room.

"What in the world is all this commotion? Out, both of you. Come on, this is not good for the patient. If you need something to do, I'm sure we can find something more productive." Her voice trailed off as she ushered the kittens out of the room and out of the tank, their protesting mews diminishing with distance.

Lion-o let out a breath and shifted his position on the uncomfortable metal floor. He waited until the tank was silent, then he waited a few heartbeats more. Slowly, almost of its own accord, his paw rose and gently caressed the short white fur that now covered Tygra's chest. As WilyKit had proclaimed, the pristine fur possessed a soft, almost silk-like nature. The newly grown hair was still too short to hide the pinkish, scarred skin underneath, but it fascinated Lion-o to see such a difference from the bloody, mangle mess the flesh had been only a couple of days ago.

He continued to finger the new fur lightly, a frown crossing his face. Although he kept his touch feather-light, he could feel the bump, bump, bump of each and every rib beneath Tygra's skin. His brother's face was growing gaunt too, although his stripes served to hide some of the loss. It seemed the healing trance had a price to pay for its miraculous gifts.

Still, Lion-o couldn't argue with the results. Tygra's breathing was easier now, less raspy and garbled and his breaths seemed fuller and deeper than before. His arms had completely furred over, almost as if nothing had happened to them. The healing trance was certainly living up to its name; it was doubtful that a visible scar would remain to mark Tygra's heroics.

On the outside, anyways…

Lion-o rested his head in one paw, absentmindedly continuing to trace his fingers down the new hair on Tygra's chest as his thoughts took a darker turn. So lost in thought was he that he nearly jumped out of his skin when a hand touched his moving paw.

"First voyeurism and now molestation. I know I'm hot, little brother, but try to control yourself."

The words were garbled, spoken as if by a cat with a mouthful of pebbles and water. But Lion-o somehow understood every one. And they were so very, very Tygra. Cerulean eyes widened to comical proportions as he took in his brother's half open ones. The tiger offered up a weak smile. Lion-o made up for it with a jaw-cracking grin of his own.

Excitedly he called out the door, "Cheetara! He's awake! Cheetara!"

With cleric's speed she appeared, eyes wide with alarm. "What's wrong, Lion-o?"

"He's awake! Tygra's awake!"

But just as he turned to look back at his brother, Tygra's eyes flickered shut.

"Hey…"

The cleric stopped him from shaking the blanket covered form.

"Lion-o… Lion-o stop it. Leave him be. He'll wake up when he's ready and not a moment before."

"But he was awake. Just now! And he was _himself_."

Cheetara's eyes filled with sympathy; a warm hand landed on the disappointed king's shoulder. "Lion-o, when was the last time you had a decent night's sleep?"

The young ruler's gaze slipped away. Lying to the cleric seemed pointless, but admitting the truth was a worse prospect. Sleep, never easy since the fall of Thundera, had become even more haunted since he had breached the memory seal. Blood stained his dreams crimson. The scent assaulted his nose even as he felt it pollute the fur on his face and paws. He'd jerk awake, heart pounding in his chest, feeling sick to his stomach. And if it was that bad for him, who had only experienced it vicariously, how in the world would it be for his brother?

Still, his lack of sleep had nothing to do with it. Tygra _had _been awake; Lion-o knew it. So he shrugged his shoulders, defiantly refusing to see her point.

"Tygra will wake up soon enough. Don't you want him to see you hale and hearty, or do you wish to worry him with those baggy, bloodshot eyes?"

Lion-o scowled. The cleric, he felt, was hitting below the belt.

He stared at his brother, as if he could force a repeat performance with sheer willpower alone. Alas, Tygra showed no sign of regained consciousness, nor of having been aware at all. And that too was just like his brother, to make Lion-o appear a fool.

"I'll sit with him for a while. Why don't you at least get some fresh air if you don't feel like sleeping?"

Still sporting a petulant expression, the young ruler rose and slowly exited the room. It didn't matter what Cheetara believed, he knew his brother had been awake. And most importantly, he had been himself. For the first time in days, Lion-o's heart had some hope to sustain it.

**A/N: **Happy New Years, everybody! Sorry for the wait, but here it is. Only two more chapters to go!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine:**

"All right, 'Kit, think fast."

WilyKat's small hands flew as he manipulated the three shells in a random pattern. With increasing speed he whipped them around, finishing with a flourish and sitting back as his sister contemplated her choices.

"Mmm… that one," she pointed to the shell on the left. WilyKat's face began to adopt a smug expression until his sister continued. "Or at least it _would_ be in that one, if you hadn't flicked it up your right sleeve."

The air of smugness left, but the grin remained. "Good job! Now you try."

The youngest members of the ThunderCats sat cross legged on the floor of Tygra's room, supposedly keeping watch while the elder cat slept. But that was boring and so they had taken to entertaining themselves with practicing their street skills.

'Kit's brows furrowed down as she expertly swirled the shells around. Pausing for a moment, she showed her brother that the pebble was still there, and then increased her speed. WilyKat's eyes darted about as he tried to keep up with his sister's movements. Unknown to them, another set of eyes watched as well.

WilyKit completed her manipulations, straightened the shells into a line and sat back. WilyKat worried at his lower lip as he considered his options. Not that he'd admit it out loud, but his sister's hands were actually faster than his when it came to this game. Just as he was going to make his choice, a small bundle of fur pounced into the center of the group, knocking the shells every which way.

"Snarf!" the kids groaned in unison.

Eyes dilated with excitement, the king's pet scampered off, two ThunderKittens in pursuit. They nearly bowled over the approaching Lion-o, who was returning from a Cheetara prescribed lunch and rest break. Grumbling under his breath, the red-head entered the room, only to freeze in shock. Tygra sat on the edge of his bed, staring at the scattered shells on the floor.

"The center one," the tiger rasped. "It was in the center one."

This time when Cheetara responded to Lion-o's excited calls, she indeed found Tygra to be awake and responsive. For a second it seemed as if every ThunderCat would try to cram themselves into the small room at the same time. Then, after Panthro attempted to enter and the chatter of happy voices reached a crescendo, Cheetara laid down the law and shooed them all away; even Lion-o, shutting the door over his protests that he was king and he could stand in the room if he wished.

Cheetara waited until the noise in the hallway died down, then returned to her patient. He gave her a dull, not quite welcoming look, a sentiment she could understand, given all he had been through at Jaga's hands.

She knelt before him, careful not to crowd the unsteady cat. "If I ask you how you're feeling, will you be honest with me?"

"Probably not. If I ask what happened, will you tell me the truth?"

"Maybe. What do you remember?"

The larger cat frowned, shifting his gaze to the grey metal floor. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose. "Um… we were fighting Mumm-ra… Lion-o was in trouble so I stepped in…" One paw rose shakily and settled on his newly furred chest. "I thought he blasted me, but… I guess not?" He looked back up at Cheetara, confusion muddying his mahogany eyes.

She gave a reassuring smile. "No, that's right so far. Anything else?"

"Pain. I… I couldn't breathe… And... and I think I had some really strange dreams… it's all kind of blurry. And then I woke up. How long was I out? Why am I so weak and," he gestured limply at his chest, "where's the damage?"

The cleric took the tiger's trembling paws into her own. "All of your symptoms and your recovery are the results of a cleric's healing trance. Mumm-ra _did_ injure you, severely. But over the course of the past few days, you've healed yourself nicely. The body consumes itself to fuel the recovery process, so expect to be very weak and very hungry over the next couple of weeks."

The tiger withdrew his hands from hers. "Great," he muttered sarcastically. Then his tone changed. "Wait, what healing trance? I can't do anything like that. What in the world…?"

"Your thoughts should become less clouded too," Cheetara interrupted before he could pursue that line of thought further. "You've been through a lot. Don't push yourself too hard."

She rose. "Now, there are a lot of anxious cats waiting to see you. Are you up for some company?"

Tygra looked less than enthusiastic, but he shrugged. "I guess. And maybe some food? I am kind of hungry."

"Of course."

But despite her attempts at distracting him, Cheetara could see that Tygra was still mulling over the prospect of the trance. The dots in his mind were already starting to be connected. And without the memory seal, it wouldn't be long before he had a complete picture of his past.

Sighing, the cleric opened the door to the first of Tygra's rambunctious visitors. They would distract him, for a time. But she knew in her heart that it would be for a short time only.

* * *

><p>Eyes.<p>

He could feel them on his back, following his every move. Not that there was much to see.

Tygra would attempt to walk forward and would end up going sideways. He'd try to pick something up and would lose his balance. His head at turns felt spacey or stuffed. Focusing was difficult. Combine the symptoms with his almost constant state of hunger and it reminded him of the one and only time he had experimented with catnip. At least he wasn't drooling.

He fell asleep, often, and at odd times. Sometimes he wondered if he had ever truly woken up.

But the worst was the eyes. Lion-o in particular seemed obsessed with observing him. Blue eyes staring at him, now _that_ was a familiar situation. His mother used to do that too, watch him for any little transgression or mistake, waiting for an opportunity to pounce and punish.

Wait a minute…

Tygra froze as an image of his mother rose in his mind. Tall with pristine white fur, high aristocratic cheekbones highlighted by ebony stripes, and sharp blue eyes a shade or two lighter than his brother's…

The cat's heart gave a funny lurch as he shook his head. Since when did he remember his mother? He had given up on that long ago, when attempt after attempt resulted in nothing more than headaches and blurry images. What in the world was…?

"Tygra? Tygra!"

He looked up to see his brother standing there, staring at him with concern.

"What are you doing?"

Dazed, the tiger looked down at his arms, which were holding pieces of wood. The answer seemed obvious – he was collecting firewood… wasn't he? It disturbed him that he wasn't entirely sure.

Lion-o followed his gaze and shook his head. "We have kids for that kind of thing. Come on, you're supposed to be resting…"

Frustration helped clear some of the cobwebs. So he wasn't good enough, was he? He couldn't even be trusted to gather wood. That too reminded him of his mother…

Wordlessly he shoved his small amount of gathered wood into his brother's arms and stalked off towards camp. He could _feel_ the eyes watching him.

"_Useless. You'll never be good for anything, will you?" _Unbidden, another memory subsumed his consciousness. His mother scolding him, again.

Unexpectedly, Jaga's voice intervened. _"Siberia, what are you doing? Your son is much too young for testing."_

"_But Master, at his age I had already passed the cleric's initiation exam."_

The old wizard chuckled. _"You, my dear, were something of a prodigy. Your son is not. However, I do feel the stirring of magical energy within him. Why not have him tested at the normal age...?"_

"Tygra? Are you okay?"

He flinched as reality intruded again. His head pounded. There was something, something in his head. Something lurking beyond his other thoughts. Something he knew he could see if he just reach...

Cheetara's hand unexpectedly rested against his forehead, and then his neck. He suppressed a shudder as the faint scent of herbs washed over him.

"You're a bit feverish," the cleric stated, cocking her head to catch his shifting, unfocused gaze. "Do you feel...?"

"I'm fine." He lied as a matter of course. Nothing against Cheetara, but he could remember being taken to Jaga's study, where the old cleric would burn incense so strong that it would make his eyes water and sting his nose. 'Not to worry, young Tygra, I'm just going to check on something…' And then the king's advisor would lay his paw on top of Tygra's head…

A sharp intake of breath and he blinked, only to find himself surrounded. Everyone, staring at him: the kittens, Cheetara, Panthro… and Lion-o again. Would he never be able to escape his brother's gaze? Even in his dreams, the lion appeared, showing up in memories where he didn't belong, sometimes silently observing, sometimes making comments. It was maddening.

"Now how do you expect him to get better with you people hovering around him like that?"

A wave of abject gratitude washed over Tygra as Panthro made a shooing motion at the others with his big, meaty hands. The emotion passed quickly, as the large general steered him to a log next to the campfire and forced him to sit down.

"Ain't nothing that ails you that a big bowl of Panthro's leek and headcheese stew can't fix!" A bowl of stinky, gelatinous brown fluid was placed in his hands. The scent was overwhelming. Tygra could only sit and stare at the horror. Lion-o made up for his inaction by pinching his nose shut and frantically waving at the air. The kittens gagged and scampered up wind. Even Snarf, who usually would eat anything, hissed and retreated.

The large panther ignored the dramatics. He grinned down at the tiger. "Eat up, boy! That'll put hair on your chest."

"I'm going to get a tonic to help with that fever," Cheetara said diplomatically as she retreated towards the Thunder Tank.

Lion-o watched his brother stir the stew with a spoon, eyes once again faded and lifeless. He turned and followed the cleric. He waited until they were out of earshot of the others before stepping in front of her. "We need to talk."

As if she could read his mind, the cleric interjected, "He's making remarkable progress, Lion-o. With the injuries he sustained, he probably shouldn't be up and walking around yet, let alone be having semi-normal interactions with others."

"He's not the same. He's not _Tygra_." The lion restlessly began to pace. "When Panthro said that the stew would put hair on his chest, he should have said something about Panthro using it on his head."

Cheetara chuckled but the agitated king continued on, gesturing emphatically back towards camp. "Look at him! He's actually _eating_ it."

"Lion-o…" Cheetara placed a hand on Lion-o's shoulder, stilling him. "He's been through a lot. Give him time."

"I need to know if you can put a memory seal back into him."

The tersely spoken words erased the sympathy on the cleric's face. She let her hand drop down to rest against her hip. "I told you, only the head cleric knows that spell."

"But…"

"Even if I could, Lion-o, I _wouldn't_. Doing it to a traumatized cub who wouldn't eat or sleep is one thing, but to do it to an _adult_? It would be the epitome of cruel to deny him the opportunity to know his past, to know some of the elements that make him himself. Beyond that, what you are suggesting – to alter another's mind without their permission for your own comfort or benefit… is the equivalent of mental rape."

Lion-o stiffened at her words, his eyes flashing with indignation at the comparison. But before his temper got the best of him, the words sunk in and his anger faded into defeat. He let out a long sigh as his posture softened. Shoulders hunched inwards as he avoided meeting the cleric's narrow-eyed, disapproving gaze.

After a moment or two of strained silence Cheetara sighed at the chastised king. "It's very important to you, isn't it, that Tygra remains the same? _Tygra_ is important to you."

Silence met her words. Lion-o continued to stare at the ground. His lips twitched as if he wanted to debate her statement, but he said nothing. Cheetara resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Apparently stubbornness wasn't just a trait unique to tigers. She didn't entirely understand all of the problems that lay between the brothers, but she did know that this seemed like a golden opportunity to put some of them to rest.

The cleric took a step forward and laid a hand on the younger cat's shoulder. "When this began, you said that he didn't know how much he means to you. Perhaps it's time you told him."

The lion's head jerked up; a self-deprecating smile twisted his lips and he snorted. "We don't really say things like that to each other. I mean, he'll probably just laugh…" His voice trailed off as his head turned to regard the slumped form of his brother, still sitting by the fire.

Slim fingers touched his chin, turning his head back. The cheetah looked at him with earnest eyes. "Life rarely gives us second chances, Lion-o. There are many things I wish I could say to my mentor, given the opportunity. Think about it."

And with that, she walked away.

**To Be Concluded…**


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten:**

Tygra knew. Lion-o couldn't pinpoint the exact hour of the day his brother had fully recovered his memories, but all of a sudden, when he caught Tygra staring at him, he met his brother's gaze and _knew_ that he remembered. _Everything._

Guilt dragged Lion-o's conscience over the coals as the older cat's lips thinned and his gaze shifted away. Lion-o also looked elsewhere. His fingers fiddled uselessly with themselves and he cleared his throat loudly. Tygra abruptly got up and left. Lion-o watched him go.

'Talk to him,' was Cheetara's advice and many times in the past week he had attempted to work himself up to the task. But the words always got stuck in his throat or sounded weak and foolish inside his own head. And now that he knew Tygra remembered… what could he possibly say to make the situation better?

He wanted to go to the cleric, to tell her that he believed Tygra knew all about his past, to have her reassure him that all would be well. But he did nothing. After all, Cheetara had basically dismissed his claims that Tygra's personality had changed, telling him to 'be patient' and 'just give things time'. It was maddening that none of the others seemed to realize just how subdued the tiger had become.

Perhaps they were all distracted by the drastic physical changes in the cat. For the past week Tygra had toddled around, a shell of his former, muscular self. His face's bone structure stood out distinctly beneath his fur; his ribcage showed like a boney xylophone. Any amount of physical exertion left him gasping for breath. He tired easily and slept often.

Still, to Lion-o, who had been looking for them, it was the changes to the tiger's personality that stood out. His brother was quieter and far less quick on the draw with his snarky tongue. His eyes, which ordinarily sparkled with life and confidence, seemed dull and distant. His laugh tormented Lion-o to no end. It rang hollow and false in his ears, a mockery to the hearty, robust, _honest _sound it had once been.

Tygra certainly made an effort to interact with the others as if nothing had changed; he still attempted to play training games with the kittens, although in his diminished physical state the sessions had been toned down quite a bit, still assisted Panthro (when permitted) with the Thunder Tank. And especially around Cheetara did the tiger act the most normal.

But whenever the others were distracted, or when he and Lion-o were alone, Tygra became an introverted shadow of his former self. Lion-o didn't know which was worse: watching his brother attempt to behave as if nothing was wrong or seeing firsthand how much pain the tiger was experiencing. Worst of all, he knew it was all his fault and he didn't know how to fix it.

Lion-o wished that Tygra would just get mad at him; that they could fight and clear the air like in the old days and everything would go back to normal. But, keeping to his own edict, the Lord of the ThunderCats said nothing to Tygra about it and Tygra said nothing to him. Instead there were looks: pensive frowns, darting glances, lip bites and spacey stares. A few times Tygra would start a sentence but immediately hesitate and change subjects. And all of this had been _before _Tygra had regained his memories. Watching his brother's retreating back, Lion-o's sinking heart knew that things were bound to get worse now that the tiger fully remembered.

And so they did. The air between the two brothers grew heavy and stagnant, pressing down on Lion-o's head and shoulders with unresolved issues and unsaid words, until he felt like screaming. In the course of a few short days, his temper developed a short fuse and he grew snappish and impatient. Finally, when he growled at WilyKat for no good reason, Cheetara stepped in.

"Lion-o, your brother went to gather fruit over by the river. Why don't you go help him?" Though politely phrased, her iron-laced tone made it clear that it was _not _a suggestion.

He complied, at once both nervous and strangely relieved. He sent a silent prayer to the heavens, hoping to be blessed with the right words. It was time to talk to Tygra.

He found his brother leaning a heavy basket against a tree as he attempted to reach a dangling hourglass shaped fruit just out of his reach. Claw tips brushed the bottom of his objective, causing the fruit to sway on its stem. Meanwhile the basket slipped down the tree trunk as Tygra's other arm tired.

"Here…" Lion-o trotted up to his struggling brother, "Let me help you."

Tygra, obviously not expecting company, jerked and almost dropped the basket entirely. He managed to stabilize the thing, only spilling a few fruits in the process, before giving Lion-o a glare.

"Thanks, but I think I can handle it."

The lion suppressed a grin. Angry Tygra he could deal with; it was the morose one that scared him. He picked up one of the fallen purple fruits and jauntily bit into it, savoring the tangy juices that ran down his throat. He gave a deliberate smirk. "Clearly."

Tygra straightened and Lion-o mirrored the action. "Look, Cheetara said that you should take it easy, so why don't you stop being so stubborn and take it easy? No one expects you to be Prince Perfect out here."

Mahogany eyes dilated, then narrowed into angry slits. And then, like a candle guttering out, the emotions in his eyes flickered away, leaving the dull, lifeless orbs that Lion-o hated so. Tygra's tone sounded exhausted. "They know, don't they? Cheetara. Panthro. You… you were in my head somehow, weren't you? It's all still so blurry…"

And the tiger shook his head as if he could clear the fog that way. But then his thoughts found focus again. "I don't remember everything, but I _know _you were there. You _saw_. And you told the others."

Lion-o shifted his weight from foot to foot as a renewed feeling of guilt assaulted his conscience. He knew his actions could easily be interpreted as a betrayal, the ultimate betrayal of an unwittingly and unwillingly revealed confidence. The cruel and unfaithful act of a very bad brother. But he had only told the others because he hadn't known how to deal with the information on his own, because he had needed their guidance and wisdom. But how could he admit that to Tygra? It would just be more proof that he wasn't worthy of the sword or the role of King.

He cleared his throat. "We used the Sword of Omens. I was just supposed to find you so that Cheetara could put you into a healer's trance. It was the only way to save you! I didn't know…"

"You _told_ them."

"I did. Just Cheetara and Panthro, not the kids. But Tygra…"

The punch was far slower than his brother's usual strike, allowing Lion-o twist out of the way of the unexpected blow. The follow up kick, however, connected solidly with the younger's ribcage. Lion-o staggered back, partially doubling over.

"_You_ know. _They_ know. Everyone _knows_ what I did?"

"Tygra…"

But his brother was walking away, quite swiftly. Grimacing, Lion-o straightened. "Fine then," he muttered. He broke into a trot, rapidly closing the distance between them. "You can't outrun me, Tygra!" he challenged.

Semi-turning, his brother saw him coming and growled. He whirled around and began to run full out. Lion-o grinned and lengthened his stride. And they were racing like they used to, faster and faster along the riverbank. A familiar, comfortable challenge, but alas, one that ended all too quickly.

Tygra suddenly pulled up short, ribcage heaving as he gasped for breath. Lion-o raced past him before skidding to a stop. He turned to see Tygra fall to all fours, arms shaking as he attempted to keep upright.

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Are you okay? I'm so sorry. I forgot!"

His brother collapsed on his side; shallow, inefficient breaths shaking his thin frame.

"I'll go get Cheetara!"

"Don't… you… _dare._"

Brought up short by the staggered words, Lion-o shifted his weight nervously between his feet, like a kitten on candy-fruit, torn between the urgent need to seek help and the desire to begin mending things between himself and his brother. To his relief, Tygra's breathing began to ease after a few long minutes. He could afford to let the tiger have his way… this time, at least.

Eying the distance carefully, he sat down on the grass next to his brother's prone body, keeping about an arm's length away. He tore a handful of grass and let the wind take it from his fingers a few strands at a time. "This isn't fair, you know," he commented with a wry smile. "I finally beat you and I can't even enjoy it."

Wheezing breaths were his only response. Sighing, Lion-o laid down. He closed his eyes. "I'm sorry. It's my fault you got injured so badly and it's my fault that you remember something you were supposed to forget." He turned his head and looked at his brother's back. So close and yet so far away. Lion-o barely resisted the urge to reach out and touch it, to draw the older cat into his arms and hug him, the way Tygra used to do when they were cubs.

He took a breath and continued, speaking with conviction. "But I'm _not_ sorry you killed her."

"Don't." Tygra's raspy word cut Lion-o off. "Don't make me into some kind of hero. It wasn't like that. I wasn't thinking of you or the queen. I wasn't thinking at all. You were there. You saw. I was four. I just… _acted._ I picked up the sword and swung it and she died. Just like that. It wasn't noble or brave. It just… sort of happened." The tiger gave a humorless snort. "Funny thing is, I think a part of me thought she'd be proud. Because I finally got something right."

Lion-o sighed. "Maybe she was. I know I'm not an expert but… I don't think she was a traitor. She just went insane from grief."

_A cold-hearted, mean spirited bitch, but not a traitor,_ Lion-o thought. He swallowed back the unhelpful words with an effort. He didn't know how Tygra felt about his mom, besides the guilt he obviously bore for causing her death. That was fine. He could hate Siberia in his brother's place. Oddly enough, he mused, her death had not just enabled _his_ survival, but probably Tygra's as well. What kind of cat would he have been if raised by a mother that obviously despised him? This brought Lion-o back to his original thoughts.

"I'm not sorry you killed her, not just because you saved my mom and me, but because… if things had happened any differently, you probably wouldn't be my brother." Lion-o rolled to his side, closer to his brother's back. Hesitantly, he reached out an arm and touched Tygra's shoulder. "And I can't imagine what my life would have been like without you. Before you were my rival, you were my _hero._ I aspired to be just like you, and then I tried to surpass you. And when that didn't work, I picked a hobby, technology, that I knew you wouldn't ever be interested in."

The older cat muttered, "So nice to know that I was good for something."

Lion-o rolled his eyes and scooted closer. "Come on, you know I didn't mean it that way. Being around you made me a better cat. And that's true even now. I mean, who else will tell me when I've got the Sacred Sword up my ass?"

Cautiously he snaked his arm around his brother's chest and pulled him against his own. Surprisingly Tygra didn't resist. Lion-o could feel his heart beat beneath his arm. He rested his chin on Tygra's shoulder and closed his eyes.

"Be mad at me if you want to… be sad if you need to, but _please_ don't regret being my brother…"

His brother's body started to shake. His broken voice tore at Lion-o's heart as his big, strong brother began to sob. "Of course I don't… regret. But… my… mother… I didn't mean to… I wasn't good enough…"

Grimacing in empathetic pain, Lion-o held his brother close. A few sympathetic tears leaked out of his own eyes, but he made no move to wipe them. Instead he held tight to Tygra's shaking body as his brother finally vented his sorrow.

When the storm passed and only a few sniffles remained as evidence, Lion-o felt a sense of relief. Maybe now that things were out in the open, his brother's deep wounds could start to truly heal. Maybe they could reclaim a modicum of normalcy. Because Lion-o still needed his brother, desperately. And because, despite all their differences, Lion-o loved the cat his brother was. Knowing the truth about Tygra's past and the reason behind his adoption had only deepened Lion-o's affection.

But Tygra didn't need to know that. They were, after all, still brothers. And in honor of that…

"Honestly," Lion-o breathed in his brother's ear, "you're such a _kitten_ sometimes…"

The elbow was sharp and swift, connecting directly with the young king's solar plexus. As he gasped for breath, his brother stalked angrily away, as erect and proud as he ever was.

"Oh come on! You say that to me all the time," he gasped after his brother's unresponsive back.

Tygra ignored him and despite the pain in his abdomen, Lion-o grinned. Maybe it would take time, a long time, for Tygra to reconcile with his past. Maybe it would slow them down for a while. But he knew in his heart that eventually Tygra would mend. And if all it took was time, well that was a sacrifice Lion-o was more than willing to make.

**The End.**

**A/N: **Many thanks for reading my story. I appreciate the 'alerts' and 'favorites'. I especially appreciate the reviews! All final questions and comments are welcome. Until next time, happy reading and productive writing to you all!

_-MadroxMR_


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